Christmas Morning
by ML Miller Breedlove
Summary: Chapter 26 has posted. The final chapter. But not the end of the story.
1. Chapter 1

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Follow up story to "Chirstmas Prayers".

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Christmas Morning

"Hochstetter just pulled into camp, Colonel."

Hogan swallowed his coffee and stared into his cup. "That's no surprise, LeBeau. After last nights mission, I would have been more surprised if he didn't show up."

"He's just fishing. There's nothing to lead him to us." Kinch assured and then walked to the door to look.

"Right, we were quiet in and quiet out, except for Andrew's momentary scare with that kraut guard. And the guv'nor took care of him, right smart! Not a shot fired, just a tap on the ole noggin." With a second thought Newkirk looked up from the cards he was nervously shuffling and asked, "You didn't say any names did you, Carter?"

"Heck, no! I'm smarter than that. Golly, you guys must think I'm dumb or something!"

"All right fellas, knock it off. Nobody did, or said anything that would point to us. You know as well as I do, Hochstetter runs here when he doesn't know where else to go." Hogan smirked, "And he's usually right."

"Oh, oh. Here comes Schultz, Colonel." Louis spun away from the door, as Kinch closed it.

"Colonel Hogan!" Schultz called, entering the barracks in his usual gun dragging manner.

"Yeah, Schultz."

"Major Hochstetter wants to see you. He's in the Kommandant's office."

"What's he want?"

"I do not know, Colonel Hogan. Major Hochstetter did not tell me. The Kommandant said to come and get you, so I come to get you."

"Aw, come on, Schultzie, its Christmas! No one should have to look at that mug on Christmas! Tell him the guv'nor's on holiday!"

"Yeah, tell him the Colonel went to London on a three day pass and he'll have to go there to see him!" Kinch patted Schultz on his shoulder as he went to stand next to Hogan.

"Ha! Holiday! Jolly jokers. But I know what you mean. I already have an upset stomach, and I only saw him for a few minutes. Come on, Colonel Hogan. He's not going to leave until he sees you."

"Oh, all right, Schultz. Let's get this over with."

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_Knock, knock!_

"Come in!"

"Herr, Kommandant, Colonel Hogan is here."

"Bring him in, Schultz, then you may go."

"Jawohl!" Schultz stepped in, opening the door wider, and motioned to his prisoner. "Come in, Colonel Hogan."

"You sent for me, Kommandant?"

"I sent for you, Colonel Hogan!" Hochstetter called out from behind.

"Ahh, Major Hochstetter, I thought that might be your car out front. Come to wish us a Merry Christmas?" Hogan flashed his best irritating grin at the Gestapo Major.

"_NoI did not come to wish you a Merry Christmas_!" Hochstetter screamed and then, lowering his voice, thoughtfully added. "But perhaps you will be making mine merry."

Hogan looked questioningly from Hochstetter to Klink. "What's this all about, Kommandant?"

"There was a bombing of a munitions factory last night."

"On Christmas eve? That's terrible!"

"You'll think it's terrible, Colonel Hogan, if I find you had anything to do with it." Hochstetter, hissed. "We have a witness."

Hogan held his breath and squeezed his hat in his hands as he waited. "If you have a witness, why are you here?" he bluffed. "Shouldn't you be out rounding up the bad guys?"

Hochstetter, ignoring the wise-ass comment, slowly circled Hogan, "A guard was injured by the criminals. We believe he may have seen them. As soon as he is able to talk we may have our saboteurs." Hochstetter took a step closer and smiling his oily grin asked, "What do you think of that, Hogan?"

"Not much." Hogan looked away thoughtfully before looking back and asking. "What do you mean as soon as he's able to talk? Did something happen to him?"

"Don't play coy with me, Hogan!" Hochstetter sneered. "You know what happened!"

Klink frowned at the insinuation. "Major Hochstetter, my prisoners do not go around blowing up munitions factories! No one escapes from Stalag thirteen. I would know if they left the camp."

"Is this an admission of guilt, Herr Kommandant?" Hochstetter glared at Klink as he leaned across the Kommandant's desk. "Because when I prove Hogan is responsible, that would make you an accomplice!"

"Whaaat?" Klink sputtered. "I assure you, I am as loyal to our cause as…"

"Enough! I haven't got time for either of you right now. I would suggest you let me take Colonel Hogan with me as a gesture of good will. If we find he is responsible it will look better if you gave him up now, before we have proof, Kommandant!"

Hogan looked with earnest at Klink.

Klink stood up and mustering his courage, accused, "So you can beat a false confession out of him?" Hogan grimaced, giving Klink a double take. "Colonel Hogan is under Luftwaffe protection, until you have proof of your charges!"

Hogan briefly closed his eyes and exhaled, only to find Hochstetter in his face when he again opened them.

"Don't try anything, Colonel Hogan, the woods are full of Gestapo." Turning back to Klink, he warned, "If I were you, Kommandant, I would lock him up in the cooler until this matter is done." Hochstetter paused and squinted, turning back to Hogan he said, "On second thought, Colonel Hogan, do try something, you could save us all a lot of time."

Hochstetter turned and grabbed his coat as he raced for the door. "Bah, I will talk to you _both_ later.

"Major Hochstetter!"

Klink grimaced as Hogan stopped the Major's retreat.

Hochstetter turned, looking back without speaking.

"Merry Christmas!" The spark of defiance in Hogan's eyes relayed the American's message loud and clear. The sabotaged munitions plant meant Hochstetter would spend Christmas tramping around in the cold, looking for leads.

Hochstetter spun back around with an annoyed "Argh" and disappeared out the door.

"Did you have to do that?" Klink asked.

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just the spirit of the season..."

"No it wasn't! You know, Colonel Hogan, someday your mouth is going to be the death of you."

"Why, Kommandant, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't!" Klink blushed. "Now, get out of here and let me enjoy what's left of this Christmas day."

"Yes, sir." Hogan took a step toward the door and turned back. "Kommandant?"

"Yeees, Colonel Hogan, what is it?" Klink sighed, not looking up from his desk.

"The guard that was hit on the back of the head…will he be all right?"

Klink looked up, "Yes, Colonel Hogan, he will be fine. Just a slight concussion." Looking at the American Colonel he added thoughtfully, "It was nice of you to ask."

Hogan nodded and turned to leave.

A feeling of warmth crept over Klink, "Merry Christmas, Hogan."

Hogan reached the door and quietly answered, "Merry Christmas, Kommandant."

The door clicked closed. Klink stared down at his desk. _That was very considerate of Hogan, to ask about the injured guard. Just when I think I have Hogan pegged as a self centered obnoxious American, he does something to show me I'm wrong. _Klink reached for the decanter on his desk. Pouring himself a schnapps, his warm smile gradually began to fade. _Wait a minute…_Klink looked up at the closed door and a shiver ran down his spine, as he replayed the events that had just occurred. _Did we say the guard had been hit on the back of the head?_ _We must have…. _

The Schnapps hit the back of his throat with a passion. … _of course we did!_


	2. Chapter 2

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Chapter 2

Christmas Day

The cold whipped into the room, drawing everybody's attention to the closing door. Hogan flipped the collar of his bomber jacket down and stepped to the stove rubbing his hands.

"So, how was Major Hochstetter this fine Christmas morning, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"His same old humbug self. He wouldn't even wish us a Merry Christmas!" Hogan answered sarcastically, shivering from the cold, or was it from Hochstetter's visit? "Seems there was a bombing of a munitions plant last night."

"Aww, what a shame. Nothing trivial, I hope," Newkirk chuckled.

"Oui, who would do such a thing on Christmas eve?"

Kinch smiled, and then, frowning, wondered, "Does he have any leads?"

"Hmm?" Hogan looked around at Kinch, his mind already off in another direction. He blinked himself back into the conversation and the question registered.

"No…no…not really…"

Carter stepped nearer to the stove and to Hogan. "You don't sound too sure about that, Colonel. Is something wrong?"

"No, but just to be safe…" Hogan tossed his cap down on the table and reached for his coffee cup. "Kinch, get on the radio and tell the Underground to be extra cautious." Setting the coffeepot back on the stove he added, "No radio contact for a few days."

Without question, Kinch walked over to the tunnel entrance and pressed the release.

Newkirk set his deck of cards down flat on the table with a thump. "You expecting trouble, Colonel?"

Hogan took a sip of coffee and grimaced. "Can't be too cautious. Especially when Hochstetter is being forced to miss out on his Christmas dinner." Hogan laughed.

"Yeah, I guess being hungry _would_ make him cranky. I mean crankier." Carter amended. I mean, he's usually cranky, anyway..."

"Andrew," Newkirk sighed.

"Yeah, Newkirk?"

"Go outside and play!"

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"I must question this man. Is he awake?" Hochstetter glared into the patient's room.

"He's in and out of wakefulness, Herr Major." The doctor walked ahead of Hochstetter. "I don't know how much he will remember."

The young soldier's eyes fluttered open and closed, before again opening with a startled stare. Making a feeble attempt to stand, he fell back on his pillow with a groan.

"No, no, lay still. This Gestapo Major just wants to ask you a few questions." The doctor lifted his patient's eyelids and examined his pupils.

Hochstetter stepped impatiently to the bed. He wanted answers. "Tell me, what do you remember about last night?"

The young man put his hand to his aching head as he thought.

"I…I had walked the perimeter of the building and…" Closing his eyes he concentrated. "…and I thought…I saw a…shadow." Opening his eyes he looked at the Gestapo Major. "There was movement in the shadows, but I couldn't make out what it was, so I decided to go an investigate…I…I…" The man looked away and rubbed his eyes trying to make the memories return.

"You _what?_ Hochstetter asked, a little more forcefully than he had intended. Again gaining control, he lowered his voice. "What did you see? You must concentrate."

"Major," the doctor interrupted, "give him a little time. It may all come back in a day or two…"

"We may not have a day or two!" All attempts at restraint were now gone. "Every minute lost is another minute they have to get away."

"Another minute that who has to get away?" the doctor asked.

"Ho…" Hochstetter caught himself, "The _criminals,_ doctor, and I will _not_ let that happen!"

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"Did something happen on the mission that makes you think Hochstetter can trace it back to us?" Kinch asked, now that he and Hogan were alone in the Barracks.

It was customary for Hogan to keep any doubts he had to himself, just as it was customary for his second in command to see through his commanding officer's pretense.

Hogan looked at Kinch and frowned. "That's an annoying habit you have, Sergeant!" Irritated at his own inability to hide his doubts from this man, he sighed and looking away, resigned himself to answer. "I've been going over and over last night's mission. I don't know how long that guard I knocked out, was watching Carter before he came up behind him." Hogan thought back and replayed the events out loud.

"Newkirk had given me the _sign_ that he was done planting his dynamite and you and LeBeau came out of the building shortly after that. That's when I began to worry." Hogan looked up at Kinch from the spot on the table that he had been staring at. "I really expected Carter to beat you two back. As I went around the opposite side of the building toward Carter, I spotted the guard sneaking up on him. I didn't know if the guard would shoot or try to take him alive. I did know, however, if I fired first, we'd have so many guards down on us none of us would make it back." Hogan paled and looked away.

"Tough decision, Colonel, but you're gamble not to fire paid off. We're all still alive."

"Yeah, fortunately our luck held." Looking back at Kinch he added, "I don't think that guard got a good look at either of us. It was pretty dark on that side of the building. And I'm certain Carter didn't use any names." Hogan nodded to himself, "So there's nothing to worry about, right?"

Kinch nodded in agreement, but was interrupted before he could offer any comforting words as the door burst open and this conversation came to a halt.

"Here, here. Look what we brought you two." Newkirk, carrying a large tin can filled with a brownish liquid, entered, followed by LeBeau and Carter. One whiff and it was evident what it contained. "The boys in Barracks 10 wish you a Merry Christmas!"

"All right! I'll have to remember to go by and thank them." Kinch held out his cup.

Hogan swigged down the last of his coffee and placed his cup in line.

"Yeah, everybody's feeling pretty good over there right now. We're going to get a football game going, Colonel. Do you and Kinch want to play?"

"You know, Carter, that sounds like a good idea." Hogan flashed a grin at Kinch, who understood the pretense – act like nothing is wrong. It would serve two purposes. It would keep his men from worrying and maybe keep Hochstetter off balance.

Hogan sniffed his drink, pulling his head _and nose_ back with a start. Judging by the smell, this was a drink that should be gulped quickly, rather than savored in one's mouth.

He was right. Squeezing his eyes closed, Hogan swallowed the burning mixture and then sucked in a mouthful of cold air to put out the flames, succeeding in fanning them instead. He coughed, as did Kinch, and then both men slammed their cups down on the table.

Louis rolled his eyes. Why anyone would prefer "rot gut" over his wine, he couldn't understand. Smugly, waiting for the first gulp to go down, Louis folded his arms and threw out Barrack 10's other _boast_. "They also said it's good for taking paint off!"

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Hochstetter stepped over another hot pocket of debris. _Whoever laid these bombs out knew what they were doing. _Turning around, he asked the factory foreman, "Why were there no workers here? Don't you normally run the factory at night?"

"Jawohl, Herr Major. But with it being Christmas…"

"Bah! Didn't anybody tell you we're at _war_?" Gesturing around him, he pointed out, "The fighting doesn't stop for _Christmas_! You gave the saboteurs the perfect opportunity to wipe out the factory and spare the lives of their neighbors!" Hochstetter turned and paced away. Stopping he looked back at the terrified man. "You're under arrest!" Motioning to his guards, he ordered. "Take him back to Gestapo headquarters. We will further question him there, where conditions are more conducive to getting answers." The man sputtered, pleading desperately that he knew nothing, pleas that fell on deaf ears.

Hochstetter turned his back. One fact continued to eat at him. No matter that precise evidence had not yet confirmed it, Stalag 13 was somehow involved. There were too many acts of sabotage in this area that had not been solved. The Underground unit operating here had to have more than just civilian members.

Looking over the smoldering rubble that was once a munitions plant, Hochstetter nodded, _There_ _has to be a military mind behind this_.


	3. Chapter 3

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 3

The Morning Unfolds

Christmas morning. Not like the Christmas mornings he remembered as a child. The war had seen to that. Who would have thought Germany would be back in a war so soon after the "Great War"? He snorted shaking his head. _Hell, who would have thought I would be a member of an Underground movement?_.

Pulling his coat tighter against the cold morning air, Ehan stepped out into the street and looked at the black smoke still lingering heavily over the town. The munitions factory had been blown up.

The early morning explosions rattled his windows and the orange glow had pervaded the interior of his home. Still, going outside to look before daylight was too dangerous. So he waited until morning. Not that it was much safer in the light of day. In fact, in today's Germany, showing one's face at the wrong time could in and of itself make you suspect. But he wanted…no…_needed_ to see that the factory was destroyed. If only for the tangible pleasure of seeing another strike at stopping the madman that had ripped Germany apart from within. Brother against brother…father against son; that was the reality of the "New Order".

He looked through the morbidly quiet neighborhood. Normally this time of year would bring everyone outside with their Christmas greetings and shared Christmas morsels, but not now. And especially not after last night. Now, in the light of day, his neighbors stayed inside behind closed doors and blackened windows, shivering with fear.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked around the house to the woodpile and loaded his arms with kindling before going back inside to his family.

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Closer to the bombed out munitions plant, another family's day had just begun.

"Raus"! The voice splintered the air, just after the heavy boot splintered the door!

Hearing the order, Morgan froze.

_Gestapo_! His mouth went dry as the gruff voices drifted toward him.

Already his family was being herded out the front of the house. Did the Gestapo know he was a member of the Underground? And…more importantly…did they know his parents were not? And what of his obligations to the Underground unit with whom he fought? Someone had to warn them about the Gestapo. He turned toward the hallway leading to the front of the house and hesitated a moment before looking at the back door. He was not foolish enough to think he could withstand a Gestapo interrogation. They would learn about his Underground activities and wrongly assume his parents knew of them, or were Underground agents themselves.

In what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality was only seconds, he swallowed his nausea and made his gut-wrenching choice. Turning his back on all that he loved he prayed it was the _right_ choice. Jumping from the back porch he hit the ground running, hoping there were no Gestapo agents waiting behind the house for just such a foolish attempt. He stumbled, almost toppling onto his nose, in his headlong rush to escape. His chest heaved rapidly in panicked breaths.

_Keep moving!_ A voice inside his head ordered. Rounding the corner of the house next door he paused. No gunshots sounded. There was only his heart pounding in his ears. Which way to go? He had to decide—and quickly!

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_Swish, click, click, swish, click click_…

Klink lifted the phonograph arm and swung the needle back. With the melody still dancing in his head, he lifted the well worn record, and gently blew the needle dust away before slipping the disc into its paper jacket.

Breathing in a deep satisfying breath, he recalled past Christmases with his family. His love of music stemmed from his mother and his uncles…her brothers. Oh what fun they would have after Christmas dinner, his mother at the piano his uncles with their violins, laughing and playing.

Wilhelm Klink closed the lid on his violin case and, lifting up his glass, offered a toast to the memory.

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With only a short distance to go to reach safety, he held tight and turned to run.

_Ugh! _

Hit from behind, he stumbled as his legs folded at the knees and the ground rushed up to meet him. Twisting he took the impact on his left shoulder, and rolled onto his back in time to see more pursuers coming down on top of him.

_Tweeeet!_

"Okay, okay…everybody up. Second down and two minutes to play."

Daylight reappeared as the mound of men dispersed. Hogan, still on his back, tossed the ball at the ref and accepted the offered hand from his opponent. "We're going to stop you," Kinch warned.

"It ain't over till its over," Hogan mumbled, and grasping Kinch's hand he pulled himself to his feet and went to join his team's huddle with a fervor.

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"What is it?"

Gustoff turned at the question, surprised and looked the petite blond in the eye. "Marie?"

Marie finished tying her robe and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was then she saw him.

"Morgan…"

The words "Merry Christmas" were just forming on her lips when the young man's pallor told her something was wrong. Stepping past Gustoff she grabbed Morgan's arm.

"What's happened?"

Gustoff looked at her. "Did you hear the explosions last night?"

"Yes," a small smile hinted at the corner of her lips. She knew it was the munitions plant and she knew who was responsible. After all it was her Underground unit that passed the information on that the factory wouldn't be running last night. And then it hit…and she could barely get the words out.

"Did something happen to…" She bit her lip and looked at Morgan. "Did they get caught?" She couldn't ask her real question…_Is **he** dead?_

Morgan shook his head. "I don't know…maybe…I only know the Gestapo is rounding up people." Morgan trembled, "Tiger, they took my parents." Tiger's eyes filled with tears of uncertainty as she pulled the boy into her arms to comfort him. "Shh, Morgan, there isn't time for this now. We must go."

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Hochstetter studied the faces of the civilians as they were loaded into the back of the truck, trying to pick out his weaker candidates. Those are the ones he would interrogate first.

"Herr Major, what are your orders now?"

"Select a few more random houses and arrest their occupants. Then pick up some store owners. I want a broad sampling of the good people of Hammelburg. With any luck we will come across someone who knows, or has seen or heard something…anything." Hochstetter turned away. Placing his hands on his hips, he stared with cold calculating eyes at the empty streets of Hammelburg and sneered. There would be hours of interrogation ahead. But with any luck it would pay off and put an end to the Underground agent known as _Papa Bear_. And if his hunch was right…a certain American Colonel.

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"Gustoff, you must come with us! You can't stay here. If they find out you have been sheltering me…" Tiger finished tucking her shirt tail in and cinched her coat around her.

"It will look more suspicious if I run. If they don't find out you have been here, they will only question me and let me go, and all can be as it was. But if I run with you now, they will know I am sympathetic to the Underground and I will be of no further use to you. No, it is better that I stay."

Tiger grabbed Morgan's hand and tugged him toward the door. "Be careful," she whispered.

Gustoff nodded as she slipped out the door. He admired the young Parisian. She reminded him of his departed wife, full of spirit. If he was _forty years younger_—he often joked with her. And it _was_ a joke. Gustoff smiled at himself. Nobody could ever take the place of you, Effie. _If my wife were still alive, she would call me a crazy old man for taking such risks...while standing right there beside me and taking them with me. _

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted, as soldiers burst through the front door.

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	4. Chapter 4

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 4

Christmas Afternoon

The door to Barrack Two burst open.

"Blimey," Newkirk gasped, surprised at the sudden entry.

All heads whipped to the opened door. The men of Barracks Two, recently back inside from their football game, were huddled around the stove warming their hands. Well, almost everybody. Carter was huddled on the floor tying his shoe.

"Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink invites you to his quarters for a game of chess." Schultz yawned making his next sentence seem less threatening. "And I've been sent to escort you."

Hogan's shoulders relaxed, as Schultz's presence registered and, though thankful, he complained, "Schultz, can't you knock?"

Schultz let the question slide.

"Escort?" The Englander questioned. "That sounds more like an order. Somebody needs to give Klink a lesson on how to send out an invitation."

Louis wrapped his arms around himself tucking his hands next to his body for warmth. Also relieved to see Schultz rather than the Gestapo, he joined in. "Oui, an invitation can be turned down! Doesn't Klink know that?"

"Yeah, Schultz, what happens if you go back and tell the Kommandant the Colonel doesn't want to play with him?" Carter asked, rising to his feet, oblivious to the short lived panic the others had just experienced at the sudden intrusion.

Hogan sighed, "Then I get a room _without_ a view for insubordination."

"You know, Schultz, if you'd learn to play chess, the Kommandant could leave Colonel Hogan alone," Kinch smirked.

"Pleeease," Schultz begged, his head spinning from the banter. "Then _I_ would have to spend more time with him."

"You might get a promotion…" Kinch continued.

"Yeah," Newkirk jumped in, "or a three day pass!"

Schultz stopped to consider what he was being told…but only briefly. "No, it's not worth it. Come, Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink is waiting."

Hogan turned and, zipping his coat up higher, asked, "Has Klink heard anymore from _Mr. Happy_?"

"Whooo?"

"Hochstetter."

"Oh." Schultz chuckled lightly as the sarcasm became apparent. "No, I don't think so." His smile suddenly changed to a worried frown. "Should he?"

"No, but you know the Gestapo…" Hogan answered, while herding Schultz out the door. "—always trying to take over Klink's command." Then, sticking his head back inside, whispered, "Somebody stay on the lookout in case Hochstetter returns."

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"Well, Major Hochstetter, what is this you're bringing us?"

Hochstetter turned to look at the Major coming up behind him. He was Hochstetter's equal in rank but not in date of promotion. Hochstetter was still the senior officer on that score.

A long sad line of terrified civilians were paraded past on their way to the holding cells.

"Ah, Major Hegel,1 I was just going to send for you. I've brought these people in for questioning about the munitions plant bombing. I can use your help in interrogating them."

"You suspect them in the bombings?"

"I suspect everybody!"

Hegel stood stiff and nodded, his eyes examining the faces passing before him. He understood Hochstetter's meaning. With so many acts of sabotage and so little evidence to go on they were going to have to start digging and…sifting…to find those responsible. Berlin was losing patience.

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Hogan looked edgily around the room. It took Klink forever to move his chessmen. He often wondered if it was part of Klink's strategy to wear his opponents down. Leaning back in his chair Hogan looked at the front gate. Still no returning Hochstetter, that was good. Maybe the Major was off filing his report. Hogan smiled at the thought. _Dear Berlin, they got us again!_

"Do you mind if I stand up and stretch, Kommandant?"

Without looking up from the chessboard, Klink waved his hand in agreement.

Hogan stood and after a good long stretch casually strolled around Klink's parlor looking for _objects _of interest.

"You won't find anything, Colonel Hogan."

"Hmm? I don't know what you mean, Kommandant. I'm just getting the kinks out."

"Mmm, hmm." Klink reached across the board and made his move. "You don't actually think I'd leave anything out for you to see do you?" Klink looked pointedly at Hogan. "It's your move."

Hogan frowned and walked back to the game. "Honestly, Kommandant, what would I do with any military information? I couldn't even get it out of camp."

Hogan looked briefly at the board, and dragged his chess piece into position. "Check."

Klink snapped his head down. _Impetuous, _Klink thought, as he settled in to study the new move.

Hogan smiled and continued his stroll.

After several more minutes of silence, Klink spoke. "Who won the football game?"

Hogan jerked his hand away from the desk drawer he was reaching for and folding his arms in front of him turned to look at Klink. "Oh, were you watching…the game?"

"For a while, then I left to indulge myself with some music and to play my violin. You know, Hogan, a little classical music wouldn't do you any harm. It might help calm you." Klink looked again at Hogan. "I've noticed…" He gestured again with his hand, "…that you pace…a _lot_!"

Hogan straightened, "That might have something to do with my being a prisoner in the middle of Germany. It's not the most desired position to be in!"

"Which is exactly why a little violin music would be good for you; it would take your mind off of the war."

"I'm sure it would," Hogan mumbled bitterly.

"I…" Klink was interrupted before he could finish by a knock coming through connecting door to his outer office.

A head soon popped through. "Herr Kommandant, you have a call."

"Who is it?"

Langenscheidt looked at Hogan and back to Klink. "Major Hochstetter."

Klink paled. Standing, he ordered, "I'll take it in there. Excuse me Colonel Hogan." Glancing at his desk, he added, "I'll leave you on your honor."

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Hegel circled the man sitting in front of him. This was the third person he had interrogated out of the group Hochstetter had assigned to him. Hochstetter had some very strong ideas about the sabotage activities taking place in the area. Albeit, very _wild _ideas…but with the lack of any other tangible leads who was he to criticize? Undoubtedly, these were the suspects Hochstetter felt were less _promising_. Of the first two, one was an old widower, whose mind was leaving him and the other a school teacher and an active member of the Nazi party. Neither of which, he had determined, had any vital information to share.

But this one was a baker. He had to see a lot of the population or at least a lot from his end of town. And with the Hoffbrau just behind him, there was a lot of potential here.

"Are you trying to tell me that you run a store in the heart of Hammelburg and you never see anything suspicious?" Hegel yelled. "I find that very hard to believe, Herr Schiller."

Schiller shifted in his chair, the first sign that Hegel was right. "We can make you very uncomfortable. You don't want me to have to resort to that. I'm very good at it." Hegel turned and walked to the table opposite his prisoner, composed himself and turned around.

"Tell me, Herr Schiller, do you consider yourself loyal to the Fatherland?"

The man swallowed hard. "Yes, Herr Major, I am a loyal German citizen. I have two sons fighting in the war." Tears of fear spilled out of the corner of his eye, but with his hands tied behind the chair, he was helpless to wipe them away.

"Two sons?" Hegel nodded and using the information continued, "I imagine you are very concerned for their safety."

Schiller held his breath. A thousand fears ran through his head as he tried to understand Hegel's meaning.

"There are some areas of fighting more…shall we say, _dangerous _than others. It would be a shame if one…or both…of your sons were assigned to such fighting."

"No…" It came out quietly in a gasp…or perhaps…it was a prayer.

Hegel walked to stand next to the shopkeeper and laid his hand on his shoulder. "I will give you the opportunity to prove your loyalty and as a reward perhaps save the lives of your sons."

Schiller stiffened; there was now no question as to Hegel's meaning. It was loud and clear.

"All you have to do is report to me…and only me…any suspicious activities you see or hear as your neighbors come and go in your shop. Of course, if you claim to not hear or see anything, I will assume you are keeping information from me and, therefore, are not the loyal German citizen you claim to be and you will be shot as a traitor."

The foulness of the offered proposition sickened Schiller. His anger mixed with his fear and for an instant he thought he could refuse, but…

Hegel stepped back and looked Schiller in the eye. "And if the father is a traitor…can the sons be anything less?"

...no…not his sons. He felt powerless to do anything… but…accept.

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1 Episode 35, "Diamonds in the Rough", aired second season, September 30th, 1966.

Major Hegel a Gestapo agent who learned all about Hogan's operation and demanded one million dollars worth of diamonds for his silence.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 5

"Check"

Klink, red faced, barreled through the connecting door to his quarters.

"Umph!"

"Hogan!" The name, called out in anger, was soon followed with, "What are you doing standing here?" Klink's red face deepened to crimson as the two disentangled themselves.

"Waiting to hear what Hochstetter wanted." Hogan tugged at his disheveled jacket as he continued to question Klink. "Did he catch his man and call to apologize for accusing you of sloppy security?"

"You mean you couldn't hear?" Klink asked sarcastically.

Hogan frowned. "You'll be glad to know, German doors are…" biting his tongue he offered the censored version, "…_good…_and…_solid_."

Klink closed his eyes and shook his head in exasperation, before answering. "Hochstetter…the pompous… _No, he did not call to apologize!_" Giving Hogan a sideways glance he paced to his end table for a shot of brandy. "He called to see that you were still here." With a death grip on the decanter he poured himself a drink, downed the amber liquid, and muttered, "As if you could go anywhere."

Hogan walked to Klink, casually taking the decanter from his hand. "You _know_ what he's trying to do."

"What?" Klink asked.

"He's trying to make me think he's going to accuse me…_unjustly…_I might add, of sabotage, thinking we'll try something stupid like an escape. At which time, with all those extra troops he has in the woods, he would capture us, and relieve you of your command."

"Hogan, you wouldn't…"

"No, Kommandant. I just told you it would be stupid," Hogan assured him. Looking at the brandy-filled decanter in his hand, he lowered his voice as if mesmerized by the swirling liquid, adding, "Hochstetter's not going to find anything."

Klink, looked at his empty shot glass and then at Hogan. "It did seem to stop him when I told him not only were you here, but you had been playing a game of American football. I had the distinct impression that was not what he expected to hear." Klink nodded. "I mean, you certainly wouldn't be playing a game if you thought you were about to be arrested by the Gestapo!" Klink deduced almost smiling. "You may be right, Hochstetter could have been hoping you'd run." Rubbing his chin, Klink concluded, "Your lack of concern might have changed his mind about your involvement."

Hogan, poured himself a shot of brandy and downed it in one gulp, before refilling both their glasses.

Feeling confident that Hochstetter was _blowing smoke,_ Klink took his brandy and went back to the chess board. The move he had been ready to make, before the phone call, was still there waiting and now he made it with great satisfaction. "Check-mate!"

Hogan feigned surprise. "What?" With a frown he joined Klink at the chess table and stared at the board. Toppling his queen, Hogan shook his head in calculated admiration. "How _do_ you do it, sir?"

Klink beamed, "I take my time and study my opponent's moves." Sitting back, he crossed his arms. "Plus I have years of experience with the game. I'm a rather good strategist, even if I do say so myself."

"Yes, sir, you sure are. I didn't see it coming." The admiration, though bogus, was eagerly consumed.

Klink looked at Hogan thoughtfully, "You know, Hogan, if you would slow down, you could become a rather good chess player, yourself. Not as good as me perhaps, but still…"

Inconspicuously rolling his eyes, Hogan put his cap on and shaking his head, disagreed. "Oh, I don't think so, sir. Some of us have it and some of us don't."

"Nonsense," Klink protested and then thoughtfully added, "We'll work on slowing you down during our next match."

"Yes, sir, am I dismissed? I really ought to be getting back to my men. It's Christmas and …."

"Oh, yes! Of course, Colonel Hogan, you may go."

Hogan turned, to leave, and as he was leaving Klink's last words went with him.

"You know, Colonel Hogan, we don't have to wait for the next chess game to start your lessons."

Hogan did not slow his momentum. He was anxious to get back to his men and let them know everything was going according to plan. The seeds of doubt had been sown by their apparent ease and Hochstetter may now be wondering about their involvement—he hoped!

Klink continued, "I'll send for you the next time I play my violin, and we'll start working on some of that nervous energy you have."

Klink's last sentence coincided with the American's 'Yes, sir', flippant salute and the clicking of the closing door. Slowly, the words hit home, momentarily freezing Hogan where he stood, still gripping the doorknob. The resulting moan never reached Klink's ears—once again proving the…um…_superior quality…_of German doors!

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Hochstetter slowly lowered the phone and put it back on the receiver.

"Bah!"

"Is something wrong, Major Hochstetter?"

Hochstetter turned at the sound of his name. "What?" Seeing Hegel, he disregarded the question with a wave of his hand and asked, "Were you able to gain any useful information?"

Hegel shook his head, "Come now, you didn't really think I would gain any information from these people. And you were right. How about you?"

"Nothing that amounted to anything." Hochstetter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But I have an idea."

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Tiger hungrily counted the Underground members present. Three more had arrived at the barn bringing the total to nine. Erika and Dirk had stayed with the radio at a separate location. Tiger's unit was intact. Thanks to Morgan's early warning, the word to scatter preceded the wave of Gestapo breaking down doors. Though only sixteen, Morgan carried himself as a man. And if he were to stay in the Underground he would soon have to disappear or risk being placed in a German uniform.

Debate had broken out and was getting more heated.

"It was random!" Eric defended. Eric did not live in town, but rather on his parent's farm. He had suffered a crushed leg in a farming accident as a youth leaving one leg shorter and resulting in an _intermittent_ severe limp, which seemed to be _exaggerated_ by military physicals, thus making him unfit for duty. Fortunately he was able to _compensate_ quite well the rest of the time, and was an active Underground member.

"It makes no difference! We still do not know what the Gestapo is being told." Willi asserted. Every group had a pessimist it seemed, and Willi was Tiger's.

Armin, Roland and Kris watched mutely. They had endured Willi's fear at various times over the past year. Sometimes, he was like a wild horse run into a blind canyon, running back and fourth searching for a means of escape. Eventually, he would run himself out and his senses would return. At least so far it had always worked out that way. But would the time come when his blind fear would cost them…cost them all…dearly?

Tiger spoke up. "We never know what the Gestapo is being told! We never know when a neighbor may have put two and two together."

"Yes, but most of the time people don't want to know what is happening around them, and do not follow up on suspicions. But with the Gestapo in their faces, making threats and accusations, who knows what 'forgotten information' will suddenly be remembered and _shared_?" Willi continued

Morgan watched the adults around him argue. There was a lot of fear, as well there should be. His own panic could have sent him in any one of two directions as the Gestapo forced their way into his home. Fear was a constant. It's what you did with…or perhaps in spite of…your fear that made the difference. He continued to watch the struggle.

Marie nodded and lowered her voice. "I can't tell you we will be all right. But I've never been able to tell you that. We constantly put our lives on the line…and…" Marie looked at Morgan, "…our families. It will always be this way, until Hitler and his madmen are stopped…"

"Or we're beaten!" Willi blurted.

Tiger turned on the statement…and pounced. "_Yes_! But either way, I will have done all I can to have stopped him! And I will stand unashamed!"

Marie's steadfastness swept over the group.

Morgan, strengthened by Tiger's dedication, took a step to stand beside her. "I'm not running. They took my family in for questioning and depending on how the Gestapo bends the truth, I could lose my parents or now be hunted, but I will continue to fight."

Willi shook his head and sank down onto a bale of straw. "I…I don't know…I…"

Marie sat down next to Willi and laid her hand on his arm. "We will wait. If we or anyone of us is sold out, Colonel Hogan and his men will get us to London."

Lutz spoke up. "Maybe." Tiger looked up. "They have ordered radio silence. We have to assume they have reason to suspect…"

Marie interrupted. "Then they made it back to camp after they bombed the factory?"

Lutz looked sadly at Tiger and shook his head. "I only know Dirk had a radio message early this morning from Stalag 13 ordering radio silence."

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Hogan waited impatiently while Schultz announced him to Klink and Hochstetter and then allowed himself to be directed to a place front and center of Klink's desk.

"Colonel Hogan, Major Hochstetter has arrested the saboteur. It turned out it was the factory foreman. I thought you would like to know you are no longer under suspicion."

Hochstetter interrupted Klink, "That's right, Colonel Hogan. I now know that there was no way for you or your men to have done this. Kommandant Klink's security measures are much too tight to allow you to get out."

Hogan digested the information without letting his regret for the unfortunate accusation of an innocent man be seen. "The foreman? Really?"

"You sound surprised, Colonel Hogan. I thought you would be pleased to know you are no longer suspect," Klink questioned.

"Oh, I am, Kommandant."

Hochstetter took a step toward Hogan. "But you question our findings?"

"No, it's not that. I just wonder why someone who has worked themselves up to the position of foreman would throw it all away by destroying the factory they run. It just seems kind of strange to me, that's all." Hogan had to at least try to throw some doubt on this accusation.

A legitimate enough question, Hochstetter thought. It wouldn't make much sense to throw your livelihood away after you've been a loyal worker for this length of time. But then Hochstetter didn't for a minute think the man was guilty. However, someone had to be charged.

"Rest assured, he's guilty, and as added security we are checking the papers and backgrounds of the foreman at the secret ball bearing plant north of town that will begin production next week."

Klink paled and half whispered to Hochstetter, "Um, Major, do you think we should be telling Colonel Hogan about that plant?"

"Why, Klink, are you planning to lessen your security so Hogan can escape?"

"No, but…"

"Come now Kommandant, you are too modest. As you yourself have said, there has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13." Hochstetter tugged his gloves on and stepped to the door. "I have to be going. I have an execution to see to." Looking at Hogan he smiled slyly. Then, facing Klink, he saluted, "Heil Hitler!" Turning, he left.

Klink looked at Hogan and smiled, pouring a schnapps he said, "Well, Colonel Hogan this _is_ good news." He held out the glass of schnapps to Hogan.

"No thank you, Kommandant." Hogan felt like the weight of the world had been deposited on his shoulders.

Klink looked with concern at Hogan, "Is something wrong, Hogan?"

"The price of that drink is too expensive." Looking down, he asked, "May I be dismissed?"

Klink looked at the drink in his hand and answered, "Yes, Colonel Hogan, you're dismissed."

Hogan turned and left without his customary, insolent salute.

Klink noticed but offered no reprimand. Instead he poured the schnapps back into the decanter, as his eyes saddened with the realization of what their freedom had cost.

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	6. Chapter 6

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 6

Stalemate

"Where's the Colonel?" Kinch hit the release lowering the bunk and closing the tunnel entrance.

The sun had set on this Christmas day bringing with it the quiet of a late evening filled with idle time.

Newkirk thumbed toward Hogan's room. "E's in there, mate."

"He's been in there since he told us about that factory foreman." Carter added, as he sat squinting under the warm glow of the bare light bulb dangling in the middle of the room, while jabbing a needle into the sock he was darning,

"Oui!" Louis pointed at a bowl of stew keeping warm on the stove. "I haven't been able to get him to eat anything…" he looked at the closed door to Hogan's room and, placing his hands on his hips, finished determinedly, "…yet!"

"Well, I think I can get him out of there. Tiger's down in the tunnel," Kinch answered, as he rapped on Hogan's door with some urgency and stuck his head inside. The action brought more than a few stares from the other inmates in the common room, and a collective breath was taken.

It took a minute for Kinch's eyes to adjust to the darkened space. A small lamp illuminated one corner, where Hogan sat bent over his desk, his eyes fixed on a map, looking at likely locations for the _secret_ ball bearing plant that Hochstetter had mentioned. It wasn't what he wanted to be doing. He wanted to punch, kick, yell…or whatever it would take to stop the execution of an innocent man. But he didn't have that luxury. There were other lives at stake here, many other lives. So he resolved himself to carefully going over the area north of town in hopes of planning his next act of sabotage…it was the best therapy he could think of…at the moment.

"Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan, without turning, raised his head in silence.

Kinch hesitated. "Um, sorry to bother you, sir…but…Tiger's in the tunnel and…"

Spinning on his chair to face Kinch, Hogan asked, "Is something wrong?" He paled and shook his head. "Of course there is! Or she wouldn't be here." Standing, he reached Kinch in two steps, and demanded, "What is it?"

"The Gestapo has been questioning the townpeople…"

Looking puzzled, Hogan interrupted, "That's not unusual following an attack!"

"No, sir," Kinch agreed. "But they rounded up a bunch of people and took them to Gestapo headquarters to do it."

Clenching his teeth, a ripple of anger shot through Hogan's jaw, as he pushed past Kinch on his way to the tunnel…on his way to…Tiger.

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"Did you deliver your _message_?" Hegel asked

Hochstetter smiled evilly. "Ja, both of them. The trap is set!"

"Do you really think this American Colonel will fall into it? From the way you talk, if you're right, he may be too clever to take the bait."

"If my suspicions are correct about Colonel Hogan, he has no choice. He would consider it his _duty._"

Hegel studied the determination on Hochstetter's face. He had to admit this man seldom made mistakes, which only served to pique his curiosity about this _prisoner_ of the Third Reich. How incredible would that be? An American prisoner operating a rescue and sabotage center right here in the middle of Germany. What would a discovery like that do for a career? Hegel smiled. If Hochstetter didn't get any results with his plan, Hegel would find out in his own way.

"Well, Major Hochstetter, do keep me informed," Hegel crooned.

Hochstetter looked at Hegel, sizing up the request and then nodded. "I will." Smiling, he continued, "You can help with the interrogations of some of Hogan's men." Then, the smile turned to a full grin. "But, Colonel Hogan…" Hochstetter clenched his gloved fist "…is mine!"

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Hogan, clearing the ladder, practically ran into Tiger. Tiger had already learned from Kinch that Hogan and his men had made it back safely from their mission. But still, she was relieved to see for herself that _Papa Bear_ was indeed, in one piece. That relief was set aside, however, as she soon found herself defending her actions.

Stepping off the ladder Hogan straightened, planting his feet firmly in place.

Kinch, Newkirk, and Carter recognized the stance and fanned out, giving a wide girth to _ground zero_.

LeBeau, on the other hand, went to stand next to Tiger and, breathing in deeply, moaned with satisfaction. Just the smell of a French woman made him feel closer to his beloved France.

And then—the fire erupted. "The Gestapo is rounding up people and you're out gallivanting through the forest. I hope you have a good reason for jeopardizing the whole operation! The woods are crawling with krauts! Are you sure you weren't seen and followed?" Hogan demanded.

His real unspoken fear was that _she_ had been in the middle of a woods full of Gesttapo. An icy chill ran down his back at the thought of her being captured and dragged before Hochstetter. Standing stonily silent, he examined her with his eyes, secretly looking for signs that she was okay, both physically and mentally.

"I think it's lovely that she came." Newkirk cooed, attempting to diffuse the situation somewhat. "We don't get many birds dropping in on us."

"Oui," LeBeau leaned closer, again breathing in her beauty. "It is magnificent!"

Carter grinned, politely, still standing back…but clearly enjoying her presence. That joy, however, was short lived.

"Knock it off, you guys!" Hogan ordered.

Hogan's brusqueness both surprised and angered Tiger, and she answered his questions with equal terseness.

"If the Gestapo _were_ there, they have been pulled away," she defended as she took a step back. "I would not have risked exposing you!" Flustered, she paused, "…the operation…" she corrected, "…or our capture," she nodded toward Morgan. "I have not survived so long in the Underground by being careless."

The vein in Hogan's neck bulged with contained anger, as he looked past Tiger to Morgan, whose presence added fuel to the fire. This was the youth's first time in the tunnels. Knowing of the tunnels existence, and knowing of their exact locations, were two different things. One could be attributed to myth, the other would be…fact. And Hochstetter took great pleasure in ripping facts out of a man.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Hogan nodded in Morgan's direction.

Tiger glanced at Kinch for an explanation. More was going on here than she knew. There had to be another reason for Hogan's behavior. The pain in the Sergeant's face told her she was right.

"They've arrested the plant foreman and accused him of the bombing," Kinch offered. The softness with which the words were spoken did not lessen their impact.

Hogan felt his gut tighten, but kept his face emotionless.

Tiger spun back around to look at Hogan as he took a step forward to get a better look at the boy. As her own fury quieted, she made the connection. Hogan's anger was coming from his feelings of guilt. Guilt for something he had no control over.

Her voice softened as she said, "Morgan's parents have been picked up by the Gestapo." With tears stinging at her eyes, she added, "So has Gustoff. They have gathered several others and taken them to Gestapo headquarters for questioning."

Gustoff, Hogan knew, had been providing a cover for Tiger right in the heart of Hammelburg, claiming her as a grandniece from France. Without his continued support, life would be a lot harder for Tiger.

"I know. Kinch told me," Hogan said more gruffly than he had intended. His own anger over his inability to prevent the Gestapo…Hochstetter…from terrorizing and murdering filled him with rage. "All we can do is wait for Hochstetter to finish...and…"

He paused to swallow his feelings of helplessness. Gustoff was a good man, as he imagined were Morgan's parents, even though Morgan's parents weren't actively resisting the Nazis. At least they weren't actively supporting them either. But how much did they know, or suspect, that they had been willing to ignore. He wanted to say don't worry, everything would be okay…he wanted to tell her she was safe, but he couldn't…and that angered him, too.

"…You shouldn't have risked coming here..." _not_ _for our sakes! _he finished, in silence

Tiger bristled. "I came here to warn you, so you would know to be on the lookout in case Hochstetter came for all of you. And to see…if …if it becomes necessary…if you can get Morgan and anyone else who might be exposed, to London."

Hogan snapped his eyes back to the petite blond and walking forward, herded her toward an empty corridor. When they were a discreet distance away from the others he turned her to face him.

"Risking your neck to warn us was dangerous enough, but you shouldn't have brought Morgan here. He's just a boy, if he should be caught or…surrender, thinking to spare or save his parents…under Gestapo interrogation he would…he can't be expected to hold up…"

Tiger retaliated. "That _boy_ has already surrendered his parents to their fate. And by doing so, he just saved my entire underground unit from Gestapo hands. He has more courage than some men I have worked with…"

Hogan snapped back. "That doesn't mean he couldn't change his mind and give himself up." He could feel his heart pounding at the possibility of that happening, and more innocent lives being lost. "Everyone eventually cracks under Gestapo interrogation. And giving him this kind of information…"

Looking deep into the brown eyes berating her, she said, "It's not your fault!"

Hogan interrupted by Tiger, frowned and stopped mid sentence. "What?"

"The factory foreman…it's not your fault."

The frown changed to cold detached anger. "I know that!"

Hogan turned and paced away. _I know that…but it **is** directly related to my actions. _Stopping he hung his head and almost immediately felt a hand on his shoulder. _But some must die so others can live, the innocent as well as the guilty…it's just a little hard to swallow sometimes. _ He _had_ been taking his frustration out on Tiger. Calming himself he turned back around and caught her hand in his. The anger drained from his eyes and he allowed himself to express his true feelings. "You took a big risk coming here now. You should have waited for things to quiet down."

Tiger rested her other hand on top of his. "You needed to know about the Gestapo's questioning of the town people. In case anything…or anyone is exposed. And…" She hesitated, not wanting to risk arousing his anger again. "…we received the message to not use the radio but…nobody knew if …if any of you… were captured." She felt him tense. "We had to know in case we needed to escape," she defended. The last sentence was a lie. Though she hoped it sounded sincere. The reality was that it _was_ personal, _very_…_personal_. She knew he would say, _there is no room for personal feelings here. There are too many lives at stake. _And he would be…right, she decided. Many lives, as well as _his_ life, could depend on her not clouding her judgment with her personal feelings, she must remember that. A long silence passed between them as they contented themselves with simply looking into each others eyes.

Kinch recognized the reconciliation for what it was…his opening. "Um, Colonel, did you want to mention that other matter?"

Hogan tore his eyes away from Tiger and looked at Kinch questioningly. "Hmm?" And then it dawned on him what his second in command was referring to. "Oh, yes." Back to business, Hogan dropped Tiger's hand.

"Hochstetter mentioned a ball bearing factory that was ready to begin production. We'll need to get a fix on its location."

_Get a fix!_ Marie thought. A small smile was quickly concealed. Hogan's manner…so military…so authoritative, both excited her and made her want to make him forget the burden he carried. She bit her lip and pushed her feelings aside.

Clearing her throat she said, "You want me to '_get a fix' _on its location?"

"Yeah, see if anyone in your unit has noticed any increased activity." He continued to look at her, but not as before. He was back in control…at least outwardly. "I'd love to take that factory out before they get one single day's production out of it!"

"Oui, Colonel." Marie agreed as the flush left her cheeks. "I'll see if I can find out anything."

Kinch caught the look in Tiger's eyes as she gazed at Hogan and, had he not been a black man, the warm blush that came with the feeling of being privy to something very private, would have given him away. These two weren't fooling anybody but themselves. Shyly, he looked down at his feet and shifted his weight. _Someday_, he thought, _there will be time for you_, and then he prayed, _God willing._

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	7. Chapter 7

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 7

Plots and Ploys

Hegel breathed in the aroma of warm bread. The delectable smell filled his senses and a fleeting look of pleasure escaped, while he looked around the bakery and studied the regulars.

"You do a good business here, Herr Schiller," Hegel marveled.

Schiller, his eyes downcast, nodded. Hegel had been making his morning visits for several days now, and gradually becoming part of the normal morning clientele. His relaxed air and pleasant smile was putting the townspeople at ease.

"Danke, Herr Major." Looking over at an empty corner of his store, Schiller moved toward it, bringing Hegel with him. "We have some very good pumpernickel today!"

Hegel picked up a loaf as if examining it and lowering his voice, asked, "What have you learned?"

There was a slight pause, followed with a hesitant answer. "There are mumblings of a…secret ball bearing factory north of town." Schiller shrugged, despondently, "But I imagine you know about that."

Hegel raised an eyebrow. _So there **is** a leak from Stalag 13_. That realization excited him, although he warned himself it still didn't mean it was the American Colonel. "Who's asking?"

Schiller cringed inside as he tried to avoid giving a direct answer. "It was just random comments." He waited, hoping that would be enough.

The Gestapo Major stared tight lipped, his eyes flashing fire, as he waited for the baker to go on.

Schiller continued, with dread, "It was just idle gossip. Someone mentioned they heard a rumor and another said they had, too. But no one seemed to know exactly where the factory was supposed to be located," Schiller stalled. "They were just more or less asking if anyone else had heard anything."

Still no names were given.

"_Who_?" Hegel persisted; his tone of voice demanded an answer.

Schiller postponed answering as the faces of his sons appeared before him. They were good sons, and he would do what he could to protect them. Reaching for the loaf of bread he remarked, so as to be heard by his other customers, "I'll wrap this up for you, Herr Major." Reluctantly, he again lowered his voice, surrendering to the evitable, and whispered, "Gustoff. Gustoff Bader and …"

"Gustoff Bader? The old man, Gustoff Bader?" Hegel asked, surprised.

"Ja," Schiller answered abruptly. He was glad to be interrupted, before he had time to give the second name. Turning, he took the bread to wrap it, hoping to leave his shame behind him with the Gestapo Major. It was the life of one old man…in exchange for the lives of his sons. Certainly no one would blame him for that! One life that was all but spent, in exchange for his sons, who had their whole lives ahead of them, surely he could be forgiven for making this…bargain with the devil.

Hegel was deep in thought, replaying the interrogation of Herr Bader. It was beginning to dawn on him that…he had been duped! The old man he had questioned, the one whose mind was apparently _gone,_ had performed masterfully. Hegel shook his head at his own gullibility. He would make up for misjudging the old codger…later. First, though, he would follow up on Hochstetter's premise. The magnitude of such a discovery, if it turned out to be true, was beyond belief. His plan to use Schiller to gather information was working. What could a plant inside of Stalag 13 find out? Picking up a bread roll, he tore a hunk off and stuffed it in his mouth, smiling.

An elderly lady, bustling by, mistook Hegel's smile of conquest for a greeting and smiled in return. "Guten tag, Herr Major. I'm so glad to see you here with us of a morning. It makes me feel so safe."

"Guten morgen, gnadige Frau," Hegel practically sang, as he clicked his heals and bowed, appearing quite the dashing figure in his black Gestapo uniform. "It's a lovely day isn't it?" High on the knowledge of his latest discovery, he exuded charm. Then, not waiting for an answer, he stepped to the counter and took the bread Schiller had wrapped for him.

"Add it to my account. I'll settle up at the end of the week." Nodding his "Good Days" to the other clientele, he headed for the door, narrowly missing the youth rushing past him.

The boy did not stop to offer an apology and Hegel decided not to pursue the lack of respect. Now was not the time to deal with youthful exuberance. The mood of his presence among the townspeople was being set. He was being accepted by them and the atmosphere around him was beginning to feel relaxed. Continuing on, he walked out onto the sidewalk, handed the bread to his driver, and stepped into the open door of his waiting staff car.

The automobile had barely pulled away from the curb, when the young man, who stood staring at the disappearing vehicle, was quickly startled from his trance.

"_Morgan_, you're late!" Schiller called out.

Morgan spun around.

"Get an apron on and help me with these customers!"

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"…feizehn, vierzehn, funfzehn." Schultz looked with satisfaction at Hogan as he turned to meet the Kommandant.

"Reepooort!" Klink wrestled his hand around the end of the swagger stick that was tucked neatly under his arm.

"All present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz announced, proudly.

Klink scowled and looked the line of men up and down beginning and ending with…Hogan.

"Colonel Hogan…"

Hogan, who had been scanning the surrounding barracks and watching his men shivering in the cold, snapped his attention back to Klink.

"…it has come to my attention that there has been some pilfering of firewood from the camp woodpile."

Hogan straightened and crossed his arms in front of him. "Well, I hope you're not accusing _us_! It's probably _your_ men. Those increased patrols you placed inside of the camp after Hochstetter's last visit make for a lot of cold guards!"

"My guards do not _take_ things without orders!" Klink bellowed.

"Oh, yeah, well ask them what happened to that last batch of blankets the Red Cross sent us!"

A low rumbling of agreement issued from Hogan's men.

"_Silence_!" Klink glared at the line of POW's. "If I hear of any more wood disappearing, your men will be out chopping more wood, _and_ keeping the fires going in the guards huts!"

More grumbling began to flow from the POW's but was quickly cut off with a "Disisssmissssed," as Klink proceeded to the next barracks to deliver his ultimatum.

"'E has some nerve!" Newkirk complained, as he broke out of rank and turned to the other men. "Sittin' in his' nice warm quarters, telling us to leave his bleedin' wood alone!"

"I agree with Newkirk, Colonel!" Carter said, stepping up from behind. "It's been really cold lately."

Kinch took a step forward placing himself between the disgruntled men and his CO. "Do you want me to tell the men to stop, Colonel?"

Hogan spun around from the steady gaze he had been following Klink with and looked Kinch dead on.

"No! If Klink wants us to cut more wood, we'll cut more wood."

"I am not filling the guard's stoves with wood!" Louis proclaimed, crossing his arms in defiance.

"_Yes, you are_! If we have to stoke stoves to keep warm…we'll stoke stoves," Hogan stubbornly proclaimed. "Of course, where the smoke from those stoves goes…is not our problem!" Hogan announced with the slightest hint of a devilish smile.

The spark of derision caught like kindling, and his men were soon in agreement and planning ways to stop up a flue, as they headed back inside.

Hogan grabbed his cup from the table and walked to the coffee pot.

"Colonel, may I have a word with you?" Kinch asked as he closed the barrack door.

"Sure, Kinch," Hogan answered. Kinch picked up his cup and held it out. Hogan filled it, and then setting the pot down, nodded toward his door, "Come into my office."

Hogan stepped inside, "I take it you disagree with my decision out there." Hogan took a sip of his coffee as he closed his door.

"What...oh…no, sir, it's not that!" Kinch quickly answered. "No, I was wondering," Kinch fumbled, "about…why…I mean sending the Underground to…" Kinch looked up troubled. He didn't like questioning his commanding officer, but this had been eating at him since last night. "Well, sir, I thought you were suspicious of Hochstetter's information."

Hogan nodded, "So, why didn't I tell Tiger? Is that what you want to know?"

"Yes, sir," Kinch nodded.

Hogan walked to his desk and sat down while motioning for Kinch to take a seat on his lower bunk. Taking one more, thoughtful sip of coffee he answered. "If I had told her I thought this might be a _Hochstetter_ trap, she…um…her unit…wouldn't be looking for _random_ bits of information that could be pieced together later, they would be trying to fit their information together as they searched, which could lead to rash acts resulting in mistakes being made. If Hochstetter _is_ planning something, I don't want to give him any help."

Kinch looked at the floor. "So you're telling me, it's the burden of command to know the whole story." Looking up he studied Hogan's face.

Hogan smiled, ruefully, "_We_ get to do all the worrying. _They_ get to blindly follow orders, and blame us if anything goes wrong."

Grimacing, Kinch shook his head "I'm sorry I asked!"

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Hochstetter walked the perimeter of the old warehouse. It took very little to make the, once deserted building look like a hotbed of activity. A few trucks full of empty boxes moving in and out. Troops discreetly stationed around the outside, a couple of well placed check points along the roads and…_instant_ secret factory. But the picture he was seeing in his mind, as he gazed around, was not the well laid plan before him. It was the smoldering debris of the munitions factory. Its destruction had been a slap in his face.

His melancholy mood was disrupted as a car rolled up the narrow road behind him. Hochstetter spun around to see who it was, and a questioning frown appeared on his face.

"Major Hegel, what are you doing out here?" Hochstetter asked meeting Hegel as he exited the car.

"I'm giving credence to this _secret factory _of yours. If you want its existence to leak out, you have to have some important traffic coming and going." Hegel smiled. "A little honey to draw the bees!"

Hochstetter nodded, tugging at his gloves and nervously flexing his fists as the leather cracked and squeaked. He looked around. This time the scene registered and he was satisfied with what he saw. If he didn't know better, he himself might think there was a factory here.

"Ja, the workers from the munitions plant have been notified to report to Gestapo headquarters for reassignment. That should clinch the rumors we have started."

Hegel shook his head, "Hmm… Ja… maybe."

"What?" Hochstetter questioned. "You don't sound convinced."

"No," Hegel turned looking the area over. "You have probably done enough…"

"But?" Hochstetter prodded.

"But…if you really think Hogan is involved…why not make it easier on him? Why not pull some of the guards from Stalag 13 on the pretense of helping with nighttime security."

Hochstetter stared at Hegel. "Yes," A smile began to curl his lips as he cackled, "That may not be a bad idea. I'll stop at Stalag 13 and order Klink to give me some of his guards." Hochstetter turned and looked at Hegel. "You know, I like how you think."

Hegel smiled. Hochstetter had no idea what was really going on in Hegel's mind. _If this man has been clever enough to operate under all of our noses for this length of time, I would be very disappointed if pulling troops out of Stalag 13 didn't send up some flags. _This was one trap Hegel wanted to see fail. He would trap the American Colonel in his own way and for his own advantage.

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	8. Chapter 8

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 8

Illusions

"There!"

From her vantage point on the hill, Tiger followed the pointing finger to the activity below, and watched as a truck disappeared into the forest. A sudden gust of wind sent a chill through her and her body shivered involuntarily.

Lutz pulled his cap down over his ears against the dropping temperature and leaned closer to Tiger to make himself heard over the gusting wind. "Trucks have been moving in and out of there for two days."

"Have you tried to see what it is?" Tiger asked, lowering the binoculars and pulling her coat tighter around her neck.

Lutz nodded. "Yeah…I tried." He looked hard at Tiger. "Security is tight! Whatever it is, they're not taking any chances!" Lutz smiled, "I think we found the location of that secret factory."

Tiger remained quiet, as clouds began darkening the afternoon sky. The storm rolling in matched the turmoil she was feeling inside. The location was right. It was north of town, but without visual confirmation it was all tentative. She wanted solid information. There could be no mistakes. She wiggled back down the far side of the hill into some tall grass in an attempt to avoid the increasing wind. Lutz followed, and she asked, "What led you here?"

"Gustoff and Willi overheard some of the off-duty patrols talking at the Hoffbrau. They also heard that they are scheduled to start production on Wednesday." Lutz saw the uncertainty in Tiger's eyes, and understood her apprehension. If they were going to send the men from Stalag 13 in to bomb a secret factory, there had better be one there to bomb! But they had acted on hearsay from second and third parties before. This information on the other hand, was straight from the guards' mouth and seemed pretty solid.

"I'd like to see it with my own eyes," Tiger confessed. "But we can't risk going in if we aren't prepared to do the job at the same time. If we got caught, security would be doubled and we'd never get another chance." Tiger bit her lip and thought out loud. "I guess this is as good a…'fix'…as we're going to get!"

"What?" Lutz questioned, looking quizzically at Tiger.

Tiger looked at Lutz and frowned, "Never mind." Sighing she added, "Tell Dirk to radio Papa Bear and ask for a meeting tonight."

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"You _will_ give me some of your guards tonight! You can have them back in the morning! I'll just need them for a few nights until Berlin sends me more troops." Hochstetter's demand was genuine though his explanation was a sham.

There would be no troops coming from Berlin, because there was no secret factory to guard. This demand for troops was solely to sweeten the trap for the saboteurs. With fewer guards in camp, Hochstetter believed it would be easier for Hogan and his men, if they were the saboteurs, to get out of camp and walk into his trap. And, even if they weren't who he was _sure_ they were, the extra guards at the factory would strengthen his _ring of steel, _preventing this Underground leader, _Papa Bear,_ from fleeing the trap.

Klink, of course, was not in agreement. "Right, and not only will you weaken my defenses tonight, but _tomorrow_, too, while my men sleep to make up for being up all night!" Klink shook his head and finished, "You'll have to find your guards somewhere else!" Now on his feet, Klink circled around to Hochstetter's side of the desk. Looking down on the Gestapo Major gave him an inkling of confidence…that is until the shorter man wielded his trump card…Berlin!

"Very well, _Klink_!" The name was spat out distastefully as Hochstetter stepped toward the desk and reached for the phone, "Let us see what Reichsfuhrer Himmler has to say about all of this."

Klink blinked, tentatively holding his ground. He had just been trumped. Throwing out the name of General Burkhalter would do no good. In his mind he began quickly running through any other recourse he may have. Perspiration popped out on his forehead.

Hochstetter paused in his bluff and looked at Klink waiting for him to fold. "Perhaps Reichsfuhrer Himmler may suggest putting you in protective custody if you think you are in _danger_!" The last word came out in a growl.

"Schuzhaft? _Me_!" That did it. Klink spun around and away. "All right! Take what you need…take them all…" Klink collapsed into his chair.

Hochstetter sneered, releasing the phone. "I thought you'd see it my way!" Tugging at his gloves, he continued. "I don't need them all. I'll leave you enough to guard your prisoners tonight." _Barely enough, _he thought.

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Hogan unplugged the coffeepot.

"Hey, that's great!" Carter smiled. "Fewer guards in the woods!"

Newkirk pulled the cigarette he was puffing from his lips. "Yeah, right, and _more_ at the factory, that's bloody well all we need!"

"Oui! And they will be guards that could recognize us!" Louis, thoughtfully, added.

Kinch studied Hogan. He could see the wheels turning. "What are you thinking, Colonel?"

Hogan snapped out of his trance at the sound of his name and jerked his head in the direction of the voice. "Mmm." Recovering, he rubbed his jaw absentmindedly and stood to pace.

The room quieted.

"It just doesn't feel right…but it would make perfect sense for Hochstetter to do what he's doing." _But still_…_Was it the tone of Hochstetter's voice? What?_

"I vote we make good use of the guards being gone and ruddy well plan a real escape!" Newkirk's sarcasm and apprehension escalated…situation normal. It was his way of coping with dangling his life on a thread in front of the Third Reich every day... every minute…second...hell, there was already a grave with his name on it!

Stares and silence.

"What?" Newkirk looked questioningly around at the group. Then turning toward Hogan added, "You said yourself it doesn't feel right, Colonel."

More stares and silence.

"Well, we aren't ruddy well still going out there to blow up a secret factory, we don't even know the exact location of…are we?"

Silence.

"I mean, come on, Colonel…we can't be expected to take on the whole bleedin' German army!"

"It's not the whole German army," Carter volunteered. But Newkirk was right, if the Colonel had reservations, maybe they really shouldn't go.

"Oui, it's the same stupid goons we take on everyday! Odds are they'll be too scared to recognize us," Louis added, brushing off Newkirk's theatrics. Then, also turning to face Hogan, wondered what had the Colonel pacing and sought reassurance. "Right, Colonel?"

Newkirk, not the least bit comforted by this conversation, became more animated and stepped toward Louis, waving his arms in an encompassing gesture. "Plus who knows how many bloody more who _aren't_ our goons!"

"Pipe down, you guys!" Kinch added stepping into the middle of the squabble. Turning back, he looked at his commanding officer. "Do we go, Colonel?"

Hogan's eyes again took on a far away look as he dissected all the pieces. _Hochstetter, knowing I could do nothing about it, would take great pride in letting me know that, although one factory was bombed, another was starting up. But, on the other hand, if he thought I was responsible for the bombing of the munitions factory and wanted to coax me out…removing some of the guards would be right up his alley, and yet taking troops from Klink could still mean it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with waiting for more troops to arrive. _

It was a toss up. There were no deciding factors. "I don't know." Looking up, his eyes cleared and focused on his men. It was times like this that he felt the weight of command the heaviest. His decision could spell life or death not only for his men, but the Underground, and, ironically enough, even Klink himself. Still, not knowing for certain if this was a trap, there was no reason to abort the mission. There were still more lives to be saved, than would be lost. "Let's proceed with caution. We'll keep our meeting with the Underground."

His eyes landed on his munitions expert. "Carter!"

Carter pushed himself away from the desk he had been leaning against and stiffened. "Yes, sir."

"Get your explosives and timers ready."

"Yes, sir!" Carter smiled. This was his favorite part of any job that demanded they blow something up. It was his specialty and he was good at it. No matter what he _wasn't_, no one could out-do him in making explosives. He was important to this operation and, he thought, _to Colonel Hogan_. And that was more than enough for this farm boy from Muncie, Indiana.

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Hochstetter looked out the window at Barracks Two…Hogan's barracks. He could almost hear the clank of the chains he would relish locking into place. Pulling himself out of his reverie he turned and continued.

"I will send a truck for the guards at six o'clock tonight," Hochstetter informed Klink. "Have them armed and ready. And make sure they bring several rounds of ammunition with them."

"Why should I send ammunition with them? This is a Gestapo matter not, Luftwaffe! You want them…you arm them!"

"_Klink_! Hochstetter yelled, and then looking at the belligerent Colonel, decided, in this _rare_ instance, Klink was right. "All right," Hochstetter waved his hand dismissively. "I will supply their bullets…"

Klink puffed out his chest looking smugly at Hochstetter.

"But I want back what bullets they don't use!" Hochstetter quickly added, attempting to knock some of the arrogance off of Klink's face. Barely stopping to breathe he continued, "Now, here is what I want you to tell Hogan and the other prisoners…"

"What you want me to _tell_ them? Why wouldn't I tell them the truth? It makes little difference why the guards are gone; the result is the same…less security. What possible difference could…?"

"_Klink_!" Hochstetter yelled through gritted teeth. Exasperated he demanded, "You will do as I _say_! The Gestapo does not have to explain itself to the Luftwaffe!"

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_Knock, knock._

A young private stuck his head around the barely opened door.

"Colonel—Hochstetter's leaving."

Hogan, grabbed his hat off his desk and headed for the common room. "Thanks, Jim."

"What are you going to do, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"I'm going to go talk to Klink" He plopped his cap on his head as he went. "I might have a better idea of what direction to take after I feel him out."

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"Kommandant!" Hogan called, as Klink stood outside his office watching the Gestapo staff car clear the gates. Klink glanced at his approaching senior POW and then back at the vanishing vehicle. "What did our friendly Gestapo agent want?"

"That man!" Klink shook his fist in the air. Looking at Hogan, he exhaled and let go of some of his frustration, before unleashing the lie Hochstetter instructed him to tell. "He needs some of my guards for the next few nights, to guard that bombed out factory in town until they get everything salvaged."

"Oh really, I didn't think there was much of it left!" Hogan blinked under Klink's scrutinizing eye. "I mean from the explosion, it sounded pretty thorough."

Klink looked carefully at Hogan, and warned, "Do not think you can attempt an escape with some of my guards gone. The guards that are left will have orders to shoot first and ask questions later. Do I make myself clear, Colonel Hogan?"

"Yes, sir…perfectly clear." Hogan saluted and turned to leave.

"Colonel Hogan, I have not dismissed you!"

Turning back, Hogan silently straightened and looked questioningly at Klink.

"Lights out will be an hour earlier tonight and all men will be confined to barracks beginning at 18:00 hours!" Klink saluted. "Disssmisssed!" Klink turned and stormed back into his office.

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"There is nothing you can do, Heinrich!" Heinrich's wife stood behind him her hand on her husband's shoulder offering comfort and justifying what they had to do. "Major Hegel has our sons' lives in his hands. If you don't cooperate…" Esther turned, her strong front crumbling as the tears began to roll down her cheek.

Schiller stood and turning his wife around to face him, held her in his arms. "How did we get in this predicament? Last week, I was a simple baker. This week, I'm selling out my neighbors."

Esther reached up and held her husband's face in her hands. "No darling, you are doing nothing wrong. We are good German citizens. We must remember that. Major Hegel is only asking us to pass along local information so they can catch the traitors to the Fatherland." Regaining her resolve, she stepped back and taking a hanky from her pocket, dabbed the tears from her eyes. "We will not lose our sons so traitors may live!"

Heinrich clutched the back of the chair he had been sitting in and stared at the kitchen table. "Ja, ja," Heinrich mouthed, trying to convince himself his wife was right. "The information Hegel has asked for was just so he can protect the new secret factory that we have heard rumors of. I told him his own men are his biggest security leak. If he doesn't want the factory's location known he needs to start by stopping his own guards from blabbing about it." Looking up at Esther he said, "It's almost as if the Gestapo wants that information to leak out."

In the shadows of the next room, Morgan stood silently listening. The youngest son of Heinrich and Esther Schiller had just felt the floor drop out from under him for the second time in less than a week.

"What was that?" Esther asked spinning toward the hallway leading to the front of the house. Heinrich was already half way down the hall when a cold draught caught his attention and he followed it to the recently closed door. Opening it, he saw footprints disappearing in the quickly accumulating snow.

"What is it?" Esther stepped next to her husband and into his comforting embrace.

"It had to have been Morgan. He must have heard us talking!" Heinrich looked longingly into the dark. Morgan, who was much like his father, had always stood out. He believed every man was equal and should be judged by his own merit. A dangerous ideal in today's Germany, where the hierarchy was based on birthright.

"Oh, no! Should you go after him?"

"What could I possibly say to him to justify, in his eyes, what I've been doing? You know how he feels." _He feels as I do, and he has the freedom to act on it. _"He is young and full of ideals."

"He has to be made to understand, that we are doing what is right. He will be called to serve his country soon, like his brothers. It is time that he stop being so subversive. It could get him killed if the wrong people hear him talk about the party the way he does."

"Ja," Heinrich answered. _And the fact that it could, proves him right._

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	9. Chapter 9

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter Nine

Rendezvous

Klink was true to his word. The entire camp was locked down at eighteen hundred hours with lights out an hour ahead of schedule. Schultz had made his barracks inspection an hour after that and found every man snoring soundly in his bunk…or at least that was the appearance. In reality, the German Sergeant had barely exited and the door had scarcely closed when five black clad figures rolled out of their bunks and slipped into the tunnels running beneath the camp. Snow greeted them as they cautiously exited their underground labyrinth, through the camouflaged tree stump, and entered the woods. Still rapidly falling, the snow was a blessing as much as it was a curse, and would eventually cover their trail. Oddly, however, there had been only a few patrols to skirt as they worked their way toward the secret meeting. It was something that they should have found comforting, but instead, left them looking over their shoulders more often than normal. And now, ready to make contact with the sentry, they cautiously approached the darkened barn where the rendezvous was to take place.

"They're coming!" Willi announced, entering the barn wide eyed and in a flurry of jumbled nerves. A dusting of snow blew across the floor as he closed the door. "Lutz just gave the signal," he panted, in a voice laced with anxiety.

Turning back to the map she had been studying, Tiger softly exhaled. Willi's panicky energy was getting worse and wearing on everyone's nerves. How he ever ended up in the Underground was one of life's great mysteries. But one thing was certain, he was in too deep to leave…or…to be allowed to leave.

The door again opened and Lutz entered, followed by Hogan and his men. Feet covered in fresh snow and faces ruddy from the cold, they found the barn warm with the presence of life, animal as well as human, and a welcome respite.

Tiger acknowledged Hogan with a nod. His presence made her feel safe, and the tension she had been feeling began to ease.

The other four saboteurs—running on instinct—immediately split apart and drifted around the barn, to become less of a target if they were surprised.

Quickly scanning the barn, Hogan's eyes eventually landed on the map in front of Tiger. "What have you got for us?" he asked, while simultaneously walking to where he could get a better view.

Tiger strained to stay aloof while watching him lessen the distance between them. Her eyes brushed past his face as she followed his gaze to the map. Focusing on the job before him, he stopped next to her without a word. She could feel his warmth and she wanted to go to him. Fears began to gnaw at her as she realized that these could be their last minutes together. She so very much desired his touch …even if it were just for a moment. _What would it hurt, _she questioned, _to brush against him as I take a step toward the map_? _No one would notice, _she told herself.

Hesitating for only a moment, she shook her head and scolded herself. _No!_ _He is concentrating on his mission and keeping himself and his men alive!_ She did not want to change that Keeping her distance, she pointed to a spot on the map and coolly began

"Trucks have been seen on this road," she explained, dragging her hand along a penciled line. "They have been turning north here." The slender finger made a right angled turn and pointed into a heavily wooded area. Pausing, she took a settling breath. The next sentence filled her with dread. "There are many troops in the surrounding area," she added as she drew an imaginary circle around the suspected factory location. Locking eyes with Hogan, she froze as she tried not to imagine the worst.

Folding his arms, Hogan looked to Tiger for answers. "How _many_?"

Again leaning over the map, she pointed at various locations along the invisible circle surrounding their target. "We counted a patrol of five soldiers here, ten there, another ten there and," reaching to the far side of the map, added, "between twelve and fifteen here."

Looking beyond the lithe figure in front of him, to the locations she was indicating, Hogan questioned himself. _Five men guarding the perimeter next to the road, what is Hochstetter thinking?_ It was the largest area and had the fewest men. Leaning over the map next to Tiger, he stared into Hochstetter's _ring of steel_. Eyes flashing they darted around the map taking in landmarks, streams, roads, and silently asking and answering questions of himself at lightning speed. The barn, though already quiet, was now like a tomb, as the others watched _Papa Bear_ run the information through the maze in his mind. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Hogan straightened and turned to face the group.

"All right, listen up. They have fewer troops closer to the road. Maybe they figure with the threat of trucks coming and going, no one in his right mind would attempt to infiltrate there. Or…maybe it's all a Hochstetter trap. At any rate, there's only one way to find out and that's why were going in." He looked pointedly at his men and motioned them forward before turning and indicating a location on the map. "There's a stream bed that cuts across the outside perimeter and goes under the road here, we'll take it in. It will keep our silhouettes out of eye sight and muffle any sound we might make." Without missing a beat he added, "It will also offer us some protection if we end up under fire."

Newkirk took a long draw on his cigarette and, pulling it away from his lips, nodded. They had followed the Colonel long enough to know that he knew what he was doing… no matter how crazy it sometimes seemed.

Carter wiggled his shoulders adjusting the explosive laden burlap bag, and felt his confidence return as the Colonel, once again, seemed his old self assured self.

Kinch merely stood with a strong steady gaze fixed on his commanding officer. He could see no hesitation in Hogan now. The mission was a go.

LeBeau checked the location of his gun and nodded, "I am ready, mon Colonel." He was a man who never ran away from a fight. A fact his cohorts found amazing, since he was also a man who could not stand the sight of blood, especially his own.

Hogan, though not surprised at the acceptance his men offered, was grateful. "Carter, LeBeau, you'll plant the explosives. Newkirk, Kinch, and I will cover you. Any questions?" Hogan looked at his men one at a time as each shook their head no. His next comment was only two words—"Stay alert!" Then, waving his hand at Tiger, Willi and Lutz, he ordered, "You three go back to town your jobs are done. We'll take it from here."

Tiger nodded, but the uneasy feeling was back in full force. What was it? They had gone through this same drill countless times. The adrenalin was always there, but this time…it felt different. It felt…_different!_

Hogan motioned toward the door they had entered, and Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk filtered back out into the night as he followed behind.

"Colonel…" A low melodious voice beckoned from behind him as he stepped outside. Hogan stopped and turning back toward the barn door saw Tiger, silhouetted in the barn light, slipping out behind him. "Be…careful," she whispered, biting her lip. She had to say it…she _had_ to. If she didn't…and something happened…she would always wonder if it would have made a difference. It was silly, she knew. A superstition…but still…what if it did remind him to be more careful at just the right moment?

She looked like an angel Hogan thought as he nodded with a slight smile visible on his lips. The snow draped her in a sparkling allure as she stepped closer. It was an invitation Hogan couldn't resist. He drew her close, kissed her deeply…longingly…and reassuringly, before letting her go and hurriedly disappearing into the darkness. Tiger watched him go. Then, lifting her chin, she let the snow melt on her face, cooling her flushed cheeks, and sent her _heart_ with him.

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Hegel stomped his way through the woods, making his rounds. Hochstetter had ordered him to monitor the perimeter, while the Major himself stayed centrally located at the faux factory. That way Hochstetter would be able to go in the right direction once the saboteurs were spotted. Hegel looked around his current location. _The Major has left the perimeter nearest the road less guarded, hoping the saboteurs will choose the weakest spot regardless of its location._ Hegel nodded and acknowledged Hochstetter was a strategic genius at deception. The Major had another group of soldiers with him at the factory, as well as more further down the road in a truck, just waiting for the Underground to enter his trap. That this _Papa Bear_ had eluded capture for this long was quite an accomplishment. Perhaps more of an accomplishment than this Underground unit was aware of. Major Hochstetter had _earned_ his reputation. He had had three previous assignments to eradicate Underground cells and had succeeded each time. The man has never known defeat, at least not until now. No wonder Hochstetter was so driven. He had, possibly, met his match. His reputation was being chipped away with each successful Underground attack. Hegel shined a flashlight at the ground and seeing another twig stepped directly on it.

_--Crack!-- _

A snap echoed into the night. Hegel smiled. He was doing his covert best to do his own bit of sabotaging. He wanted to warn any Underground unit that may be out there to stay away. The time was not right for their capture, that honor was to be his. He coughed loudly into his gloved hand and looked around for any movement. _If the saboteurs can't hear all this noise_, _they deserve to get caught_. He smiled. "But not by Major Hochstetter," he mumbled to himself, "And not yet!"

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Morgan stumbled into the barn, gasping for air, as his eyes darted around the now dark barn. _Too late! _he cursed. He had run as fast as he could, trying to get to the meeting. But now he realized Colonel Hogan and his men had already left. Or had they?

_Maybe they heard me coming and…_ "Its only me, Morgan!" He bellowed in a hoarse whisper. Spinning around he stared into the blackness straining his ears to hear movement. –Nothing!--

_How long have they been gone? _He wondered. _Do I go after them? Or do I run to warn Tiger and the others that they have walked into a trap?_ A feeling of deja vu swept over him as he remembered the morning his parents were taken.

Morgan leapt back out into the night hurriedly twisting the center nailed sliver of wood around locking the door closed. The snow was falling faster now and the flakes had grown fat. He turned and paused, looking over the ground for any indication of the direction they had gone. A smooth blanket of white lay before him. Slowly scanning the snow covered landscape, he walked closer to the woods. His chance of following a trail was now measured by the speed with which the snow was piling up. Growing more disheartened as he reached the edge of the woods, he was about to head back into town when…

_There! What's that?_ A frothy mixture of white and brown, where the snow had been disturbed, lay ahead of him. He stepped closer to the depression on the border of the forest and looked into the wooded terrain. _A trail! _The footprints in the woods were being filled in at a slower rate, as the snow collected on the branches and tree trunks, allowing less to gather on the ground. Morgan's chest heaved with excitement as he clutched his coat around his neck and uttered a silent prayer of thanks. Looking heavenward he asked for one more favor. _Please, help me reach them in time! _


	10. Chapter 10

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 10

Stop!

The three Underground agents separated at the edge of town. Activity in Hammelburg had settled for the night. The wind, too, had settled and the snow was now falling gently, burying the ravages of war beneath a layer of pure white. Willie headed east to the Hoffbrau where he would don his waiter attire and become visible before any acts of sabotage began. It was at the Hoffbrau where Willie first met Colonel Hogan, who was wearing a German uniform and being wined and dined by some German brass.1 Somehow the American officer had arranged a German escort to his rendezvous to pass along secret information. Willie had been so nervous he could barely talk and would have left the Underground that very night except that he was enormously impressed by the cool-talking, fast-acting young American, who even while being flanked by some of Germany's highest ranking officials was able to pull off a _pass_ right under their noses. A man who could do that, Willie decided, could do just about anything.

South of town, Tiger and Lutz headed for Tiger's _adopted_ great uncle Gustoff's home. They stayed in the shadows, appearing as lovers walking hand in hand and out for an intimate late night stroll. Lutz's plan was to escort Tiger home before heading to his parents' farm. Not that Tiger needed an escort—and she would be the first to tell you so—but Lutz had been raised differently, and he _would_ escort Tiger home.

"It's all so misleading," Marie whispered.

Lutz looked at her, expecting her to continue and found himself captivated by her vision. The face was young and beautiful and was magnified by the sparkling of the snow clinging to her hat and hair. The illusion of carefree beauty was shattered, however, when he looked into her eyes. The war and the activities of the night, both past and present, were burned into them and abruptly broke the spell her beauty had cast over him. Just about to ask what she had meant by her comment, he was jerked to a halt by her suddenly tense hand in his. Following her gaze down the street, he immediately saw what had alarmed her.

A hurried man in a heavy coat, his hat pulled down in front blocking the snow from his face, was coming toward them. Lutz, placing his hands on Tiger's shoulders, pulled her further into the shadows under the tangled branches of a nearby snow-laden tree. They huddled together like lovers watching the figure continue to advance on them while looking intently at the ground, as if following some invisible trail of bread crumbs.

"It's the baker--Schiller," Lutz whispered.

"Morgan's father? Tiger asked. "What's he doing out here at this time of night?"

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"Put them outside. I want them bitter cold when they're used!"

The heavy manacles clanked as the guard wrestled them up and hurried to follow Hochstetter's orders. The links were thick, as were the cuffs, and were designed to weigh a prisoner down as well as to confine him.

Hochstetter watched them being carried outside, seeing not only the chains but the vision of the prisoner that would soon be in them. "He'll feel the sting of defeat down to his bones!" _That I promise! _The Major's gravely voice was anxious with anticipation as he paced, waiting for the radio to crackle to life with the coordinates of the saboteurs. He hated waiting but had come to realize it was a necessary evil. It was a lesson learned as he built previous snares for other ill-fated Underground groups. Ironically, it made him feel like a prisoner himself. So to offset this self imposed captivity, he planned his interrogation of the Underground leader _Papa Bear_. A man he had been tracking for _too_ long. A man whose face he had given to the American—Colonel Hogan.

"It has to be Hogan; everything points to Stalag 13!" he mumbled, while flexing his fists causing his leather gloves to stretch and creak. He enjoyed the sound. It reminded him of the bare skin and bones of his prisoners stretching and popping under the stress and duress of interrogation, and it was helping him to fan his fantasy. Folding his hands into fists, he continued to play out the anticipated scene. The begging for mercy would follow. And it would be particularly satisfying coming from the man who had been the source of his embarrassment. Hochstetter's pacing stopped, and a smile curled the corner of his lips.

"Did you say something, Major?" Lieutenant Dresdner asked.

Hochstetter snapped out of his daze and spun on the lieutenant, as his imagined delight faded along with his patience. "Bah, enough of this waiting!" Hochstetter bellowed.

Dresdner motioned for the guards to follow him, as he rushed to follow Hochstetter out the door.

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--Splash!—

_Idiot! Why don't you just shout, --Here I am!-- _Morgan's hand entered the icy water, catching himself as he stumbled over the wet rocks and twigs. Wishing he had had the presence of mind to grab his gloves before he ran from his home, he blew his warm breath into his hands while looking over the ground in front of him. _Where are they? _His fear had escalated as the trail, left by Hogan and his men, had become harder and harder to see. Now it seemed to disappear altogether in the shallow edges of the dark gurgling water in the bottom of the creek bed. Running on hope bordering on panichis instincts told him he was getting himself deeper and deeper into danger and should give up—_My father's right…I don't know when to quit! _He shook his head at the thought. _But apparently **he** does. _The bitterness of hearing his parents justifying their actions ate at him. _I learned my ideals from you! I guess I should have learned to give up from you, too. Then, maybe, I wouldn't be out here freezing. _His father's words played back to him. '_Live to fight another day, by knowing when to walk away,'. _He considered those words now, but he couldn't bring himself to follow that logic. _The men of Stalag 13 have done too much for us_. _Not only have they blown up bridges and factories, but entire families have been helped out of Germany. And_…Morgan admitted, _we needed them; there is still much to be done_.

He looked into the darkness ahead of him and pulling the cuffs of his coat down over his reddened hands he placed them under his arms, holding them close against his body, and continued blindly in the direction the trail had led not knowing he, too, was at this moment being tracked…visually.

Hegel hid in the shadows, his black uniform blending into the darkness. _What was that sound? _ Waiting, he listened. It had hardly been discernable, a slight ruffle of sound…but out of sequence with the rhythmic swaying of the snow-laden trees. Then—_was that movement?_ A rabbit bolted from its hiding place. _Yes! Something startled that animal. There--where the creek turns! _Hegel watched as a shadowy figure quickly disappeared.

_Bad choice of direction, Papa Bear! You're heading right to where Major Hochstetter wants you! _With no way of knowing that what he glimpsed was already an attempt to warn the infamous Papa Bear, he looked over his shoulder in the opposite direction and frowned. _I needed to draw the patrols away, and there isn't much time_. _If Hochstetter's plan is to fail, I have to act quickly!_

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Klink took a sip of his hot cocoa while standing in his pajamas in his darkened office watching the search lights rake the encampment. Barracks Two, Hogan's barracks, was dark and quiet…_and it had better stay that way_, Klink thought. He would stand for no monkey business while he was operating with fewer guards. Tonight, anyone who broke a rule could expect to be sent to the cooler. There would be zero tolerance. "_Lights out an hour early,"_ he remembered telling his senior POW, and he had followed through on his promise with no retaliation from Colonel Hogan. That, alone, made Klink nervous. And he had actually considered locking the American up just based on past experience. Except…then he really _would_ have reason to worry about revenge!

"Well, it looks like you got the message, Hogan. Now maybe I can get some sleep!" Klink said out loud. Taking another swallow of hot cocoa, he walked back into his private quarters, locking the connecting door behind him.

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_--splash—_

Newkirk froze. _What was that? _Taking two quick steps to catch up, he jabbed Kinch's arm. Kinch turned and Newkirk walked his fingers up his hand before pointing at his ear. Kinch shot a startled glance past Newkirk and then turned back around and tagged Carter, quickly signing the warning. Carter, in turn, passed it to LeBeau, who, stepping next to Hogan, hurriedly gave the bad news.

Hogan clinched his jaw and nodded. --_Great! -- _Pulling his gun he twirled his opposite hand in a circle and everyone fanned out to wait. Within seconds the sound of someone approaching became more discernable, and the five saboteurs prepared their ambush.

Soon Newkirk signaled a visual sighting and all breathing stopped. _Come on you bloody idiot! That's it just a wee bit more… more… _The shadowy figure finally passed in front of him and the Englander slipped out of the shadows simultaneously wrapping the crook of his arm around the intruder's neck quickly blocking off his air and any hope of calling out.

Instantaneously a foot slammed down on top of Newkirk's. _Ow! You bloody… _Stumbling to one side, Newkirk pulled his arm tighter around the struggling enemy and began a downward spiral. Carter, rushing up on Newkirk's left, caught an elbow in the face, knocking him backward, but not before he gave Newkirk a push keeping him on his feet. As Carter splattered onto the ground, Louis moved in on Newkirk's other side, grabbing the flailing arm of their enemy, and pinned it down. Kinch took the opening and stepping out of the darkness prepared to deliver the knock out blow. Carter scrambled to his feet, blood running from his nose, and rushed back to Newkirk's side, helping to steady the wiggling intruder. Hogan, carefully keeping watch, stood back, gun ready and aimed at the intruder ready to take him down should he break free.

_Morgan?_ Hogan grabbed Kinch's elbow from behind stopping the knockout blow. "Wait!" Pushing past Kinch he placed his gloved hand over Morgan's mouth and signaled Newkirk to ease off. Morgan drew in a muffled breath and Hogan clamped his hand down tighter over the lad's mouth to keep him from exhaling in a cough.

Struggling to get control, the youth breathed out through his nose, and quickly used the same route to breathe in again, as Hogan did not offer to remove his hand. Blinking and swallowing hard, Morgan nodded his understanding to be quiet. Hogan jerked his head toward the darkness indicating to the others to take a quick look around.

Newkirk rubbed the top of his foot, and then looking at Carter saw the blood running down his buddy's chin. Pulling a kerchief from his pocket, he handed it to Carter, before punching Morgan hard on the shoulder and hobbling off.

"Mmm!" Morgan grabbed his arm.

"Shhh!" Hogan softly warned. –_You're_ _lucky that's all you got!_

In a short time they were all back, assuring Hogan that they were alone. Hogan lowered his hand and asked, "What are _you_ doing here?" Hogan's anger was barely contained. "And it had better be good! This stupid act could get us all killed!"

Morgan trembled, sweat glistening in his hair. He anxiously took some short breaths, trying to fill his burning lungs with enough air to speak.

"Trap!" The hoarseness of his voice heightened the warning.

Hogan's men's eyes widened as they looked from one another to their leader.

Hogan stared at Morgan. "Are you sure?" –_Damn-- _"How do you know?" Hogan demanded, looking first at Morgan and then into the darkness.

"Oui, don't stop there! What kind of trap?" Louis shifted his weight nervously and turned to look over his shoulder.

"I tink you brode my node!" Carter stammered, more concerned with his immediate problem and still clutching the kerchief to his face.

Kinch walked over to Carter and pulled his hand with the bloody kerchief away. Then, placing his own hands on either side of Carter's nose, felt for deformity. Shaking his head, he assured "It's not broken. Believe me, with all the boxing I've done, I know when a nose is broken!"

Morgan, still staring uncomfortably into the stern face of Colonel Hogan, did not hear the conversation going on behind him. Blinking back the tears of shame over his father's actions, he replaced them with anger.

"My…my father…he's been giving information to…the Gestapo."

"Oh, well that's bloody marvelous!" Newkirk answered, as he took the handful of medicinal snow he had gathered and crammed it into Carter's face. Then, drawing his gun, he lowered his height a couple of inches. "Is there anything else you want to throw at us?"

"Quiet!" Hogan hissed through clenched teeth. Still looking at Morgan, he asked, "How much does your father know?" Hogan's face steeled as he braced for the answer.

"I don't know." Shaking his head, he continued, "Nothing that I know of."

"Then what could your dad tell them?" Kinch asked, as he washed the blood from his hands with snow. "You're not making any sense!"

"Morgan, get to the point; we could be sitting ducks here!" Hogan ordered.

Morgan swallowed some of the dryness out of his throat. "He had just been making observations of the townspeople from what I could tell, But he said that he told the Gestapo officer that it was…" Morgan paused, "…his own men that were spilling the most information about this _secret_ factory." Morgan looked at Hogan. "It sounds like a set up, Colonel Hogan. I thought you should know." Morgan looked around at the men surrounding him. His eyes stopped on Carter's bloodied face. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"That doesn't help," Carter answered, still annoyed, and then put a fresh handful of snow on his throbbing nose.

"What do we do now, mon Colonel?"

Without waiting for an answer, Newkirk offered, "I say let's get the bloody 'ell out of here!"

Hogan hunkered down and his men followed. Eyeing his munitions man, he asked, "You all right, Carter?"

"He's all right, Colonel!" Newkirk answered.

"Is your name Carter?" LeBeau asked.

Kinch rubbed his eyes, sighing and shaking his head before staring disapprovingly at his comrades.

"Can it!" Hogan looked back at Carter waiting for his answer.

"Yes, sir…I think so…it's feeling better."

Hogan nodded, "Good, we need you."

That was all Carter needed to hear. He dropped the snow he was pressing to his nose from his hand.

Kinch, take Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau and put a time delay charge on the bridge leading back into Hammelburg, then see if you can take out a junction box feeding into the communication center in town. If not, blow up some track…or anything that will draw Hochstetter and his goons out of here. Give yourselves enough time to blow whatever it is before the bridge goes up and then get back to camp. I'm willing to bet Hochstetter has played the odds and pulled every available man to his factory _ambush_. If…it is an ambush. And ten will get you twenty that it is." Hogan stared off into space for a moment, before looking back at Kinch. "But that still doesn't tell me if the factory is real."

Kinch nodded, "What are _you_ going to do, Colonel?"

"I'll stay here and keep watch. If this is really a dummy plant, when the explosions start Hochstetter should take all of his men and head to the activity."

LeBeau's eyes popped at the answer.

"You're staying…" Morgan, shocked, began to question that decision, causing Newkirk to give him a back hand to the chest. "Ugh!"

"Quiet, mate," Newkirk warned and then finished Morgan's question. "Colonel, do you plan on staying here alone?"

LeBeau added with some urgency, "Oui, Colonel, you can't stay here alone, one of us will stay, too! I volunteer!"

"I'll be all right." Hogan answered, in an, 'end of discussion' kind of voice.

LeBeau looked to Kinch for help. But Kinch only shook his head.

_Not a prayer, Louis! _There were times you could question the Colonel, but this was not one of those times. The Colonel was making fast decisions based on very little information. He would not allow anyone to take any unnecessary risks…no one except himself, that is.

Hogan looked at Carter. "Do you have enough dynamite in that bag you're carrying to leave me some?"

"Sure do, boy…I mean, sir!" Carter pulled out two compact bundles and carefully handed them over and pointed, "You set it here. You'll have ten minutes for each mark."

Hogan nodded and then looking at Morgan ordered, "You go back home. And get there _before_ the fireworks!"

"Do you think they know about me?" Morgan asked, not sure that going home was a wise decision.

"You tell me. Would your parents turn you in if they were suspicious of you?'

"No!" The denial came out without hesitation, but Morgan hadn't thought his father would consort with the Gestapo either and his certainty wavered. Looking more confused he said, "At least, I don't think so."

Realizing the danger, was imminent but not upon them—yet— Hogan let go of some of his initial anger, and was now able to see the boy and not the threat. He realized how painful Morgan's realization of his father's actions, and his doubts about his own safety, would have been, and offered his insights to soften the blow.

"I think you're probably right. Your parents, most likely, are trying to protect you from the Gestapo. Besides, the Gestapo would have had you in for questioning if they thought you knew anything." Hogan shook his head, "Hochstetter is after _Papa Bear,_ and he's most likely using you to get your parents to cooperate. But if you're afraid to go home, go to Tiger and have her hide you until we can get you out of Germany."

Hogan checked his watch, "Okay, enough talk." Looking at his men he ordered, "Get going. I'll meet you back at camp. And take Morgan out of here with you."

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered, while motioning Newkirk, Carter and Morgan to head out.

Newkirk, uncomfortable with showing emotions, looked at Hogan and mumbled, "Be careful, guv'nor," and then quickly stepped away, pulling Morgan to follow.

Carter observed Newkirk's awkward attempt at not showing his emotions and turned to sincerely offer his own. "Yeah, Colonel, be careful." Carter shuffled his feet, turning to fall in behind Morgan.

"Morgan," Hogan called in a curt whisper.

Morgan turned, looking at Hogan with trepidation.

"This was a foolish thing to do," the reprimand was said with force and meaning and then tempered with a softer, "Thanks!"

Morgan's mournful face lightened and he smiled for the first time since catching up with Hogan and his men. "You're welcome!" he answered, and then turned to follow Newkirk.

Kinch watched Morgan's changed demeanor and smiled. Then, turning back to his commanding officer, said what Hogan hadn't. "Brave kid!"

"Yeah, I hope it doesn't get him killed someday." The American Colonel looked away from the retreating threesome and back at Kinch.

Kinch smirked at the irony of Hogan's statement and then added, "Colonel, don't take any chances; we can come back for the factory later if it's legit."

"Kinch is right, mon Colonel," LeBeau agreed, stepping up beside the muscular Sergeant.

"If it's legit, we may never have a better opportunity. Now get going before those three walk into a patrol," Hogan answered with a half smile.

Kinch reluctantly turned to leave, nudging Louis ahead of him.

Looking back over his shoulder Louis whispered, "Bonne chance, Colonel!"

* * *

1 From the episode 10: "Top Hat, White Tie and Bomb Sight" Aired November 19th 1965. 


	11. Chapter 11

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 11

A Shot In The Dark

_I can't really blame him... Schiller was…he was…_Lutz, trying to understand, was struggling as he replayed the baker's confession in his head, but reality won out.

_**He would have sold us out. **If he had known who was in the Underground…he would have...I never would have thought...I mean of all the people who would collaborate with the Gestapo…he would not have made the list. He never supported the Nazis…I went to school with his sons…I've been to his house. I talked with him about the wrongs going on in our country! _Lutz stopped dead in his tracks.

_I've talked to **him** about what is wrong with our country… _He stopped and ran his hand over his paling face as he considered his own safety. _Ha, little did he know when he was bearing his soul that he talking directly to the leader of the Hammelburg Underground_.

_Plop, plop, plop!_

Lutz dropped to a crouch and looked into the darkness in the direction of the sound.

He watched as snow plummeted from tree limbs hitting other limbs and setting an avalanche of snow plopping through the trees. Smiling with relief, he stood and began walking again.

_Schiller's got me jumping at falling snow! I've got to pull myself together or I'm going to end up…like him!_

_The man's scared to death. Tiger couldn't even get him to tell us the name of the Gestapo agent he's been dealing with! _Lutz's eyes widened as he realized, _He's not only afraid of…whoever it is, he's scared about what Morgan's going to do, now that he knows. _Lutz picked up his pace. _Well…I know what he's gone to do!_

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Tiger rolled her fist up in her coat, forcing the collar to dig into her neck. The noose-like effect matched the mental picture she had of her future…_their_ future.

_I knew something wasn't right! Why didn't I listen to myself? I should have stopped them…I should have cancelled the meeting…told them we couldn't find anything…_Tiger's hand touched the gate and she froze. Short gasps of air made their way into her body as her heart raced and she tried to control her panic. _I…I sent them…_

She looked over her shoulder and prayed. _Please…Let Lutz find him in time._

Shivering, she pushed the gate open. The door to Gustoff's house appeared as if in a dream wavering and surreal through the tears in her eyes. Choking back a sob, she thought of Morgan.

_Poor Morgan! He may act like a man…but he's still a boy. What if he gets caught?_

Frustrated, she kicked the steps leading to the front door.

_I feel so useless just sitting here waiting to see what happens! But I have to be here to give directions if we have to act fast...but…I can't take any action until I know what is happening. _"Argh!" She slammed her foot down on the step. _I **hate **the Gestapo!_

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Hogan watched his men disappear and looked down the creek bed, into the blackness. _We've made too much noise to continue on from here. _The churned-up, blood spattered snow stared back at him as he looked at the ground. Kicking fresh snow over it, he decided, _I'd better move to the other side!_

Unzipping his jacket and, shivering, he carefully tucked the explosives, Carter had left him, inside. _All I need is for a bullet to find one of these packs. _Wiggling them into a _comfortable _position, he took a settling breath and concluded, _At least it'd be quick…I hope. _Putting that thought aside, he looked over the side of the creek into the woods.

_It looks like it's You and me..._ he briefly glanced heavenward, as if expecting an answer before grabbing a protruding root and clambering up the side onto the forest floor. Crouching low, he began moving as he finished his prayer…_I'll take point._ _You've got my back!_

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"Corporal, bring your men and follow me!" Hegel looked around. The snow, still falling, lowered visibility and made seeing into the woods difficult.

_At least I have the snow working for me. I should be able to make enough noise moving this patrol to alert the...what? Underground? Saboteurs? Papa Bear himself? Or maybe it was just townsfolk out hunting with an unfortunate sense of direction! No, there's been enough activity that any townsman would know to stay away. Hochstetter's plan has to be working! _

Hegel walked with urgency for a little distance before motioning the Corporal forward.

"Tell your men to be ready and follow my lead."

"Jawohl, Herr Major." The Corporal dropped back as Hegel drew his gun.

Hegel smiled. _It's time to cause a commotion! _

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"Come on, come on!" LeBeau quietly whispered encouragement to himself from the bank on the far side of the bridge where he waited after sending Morgan on his way. _We've got to hurry and get Hochstetter out of there before he finds Colonel Hogan!_

Louis rose up and looked across the expanse of the river to the opposite bank and into the forest beyond. _It's still quiet. Good! Mon Colonel is still safe. _ Looking back at his friends he fretted, _Hurry up, what's taking so long?_

"That's got it!" Carter whispered and nodded approvingly as he moved down from the middle strut of the bridge. Newkirk and Kinch had planted their loads on either end and brought their wires to the center to tie into Carters timer.

Kinch patted him on the back. "Good job!" he whispered. "Now, let's get going. We've got to cut the communication wires going into town and blow some track before this bridge goes."

Newkirk swiped his hat off his head in frustration and worriedly looked back in the direction they had come. Rubbing his face, he irritably slammed his hat back into place and turned to leave mumbling his concern. "The gov'nor needs to have his head examined!"

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Hochstetter swiped the bony tree branch out of his path with his left hand, while his right hand squeezed and pointed the Walther pistol in front of him. _You won't escape. Not this time!_

His men trailed out behind him, struggling to stay with their driven leader. Hans, the unfortunate soldier assigned to carry the chains, grunted as they dug into his skin where they hung around his neck. Holding them close against his body, he was struggling to keep them from beating him black and blue when the column suddenly stopped.

"Ugh," Hans groaned as he plowed into the man in front of him. Wiping the sweat from his eyes he muttered a quiet, "Bitte."

The soldier in front of him turned around with a frown that changed to a sympathetic nod as he saw the red face of his comrade. Nodding his forgiveness, he lowered his voice and said, "Get your gun out. Don't you know Major Hochstetter's taking us to meet the enemy?"

Hans panted, "I can't control these chains and hold a gun! I'd end up shooting you in the back!" Before Hans had finished his sentence, a shot fired in the distance, abruptly changing his mind.

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Using the shadows on the forest floor, Hogan melded into them confidently, making his way to the opposite side of the guarded perimeter. He had done this hundreds of times before and his movements became automatic, allowing his mind to separate and embrace the rare calm he found himself in. It was quiet, peaceful and, he realized… _beautiful._ _I can almost make myself believe I'm back in the States, that home is…just down the road. _

--_Crack-- _

Hogan returned to foreign soil with a jolt. He dropped to the ground on instinct, his heart pounding. Home and the sweet feeling of being safe and protected was ripped away by the smell of gunpowder, accompanied by the snap of twigs torn loose by a life-seeking bullet.

_A single shot?_ His mind refocused tuning his senses back to the reality of staying alive. Had he been seen? Wetting his lips, he took a breath, every nerve and muscle primed and ready to act, but not yet knowing what action to take. The dynamite at his waist dug into his skin as he crouched in the darkness, making him very much aware that a well-placed bullet could easily hit the explosive powder he was carrying and send him scattering in all directions. Hoping to avoid that scenario, he wrapped his left arm over them to give a slug something else to bite into.

Brown eyes slowly scanned the woods for movement.

_--Quiet—_

And then… a barrage of bullets.

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	12. Chapter 12

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 12

Best Laid Plans

Hegel looked at…nothing…raised his gun and fired.

The Corporal spun back around and raising his arm, brought it down, signaling for his men to fire, too!

A force of bullets shot out blindly into the blackness.

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Carter stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder.

"Ere, mate." The Englander tucked the explosives on the inside of the track between the ties and extended the end of the wire toward Carter. "Andrew, pay attention." Newkirk looked in the direction Carter was staring and frowned. Then, barely whispering, he asked, "Did you hear something?"

"No…I guess not." Carter turned back around and taking the wire, began tying it into the timer.

"Well, then, lets finish this before Kinch and LeBeau wonder what's taking us so long and come looking for us."

"Do you think they'll have any trouble cutting the communication lines feeding into Hammelburg?" Carter asked.

Newkirk grabbed his hat off his head and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "They'd better not, ′cause when these tracks blow every goon for miles will be swarming all over this place."

Looking up, Carter nodded. "That's it; we've got ten minutes!"

Newkirk blinked back at him and urgently demanded, "Then let's get going!"

Carter smiled; it always rattled Newkirk to be standing next to a ticking timer. "Sure, um, which way's the footbridge from here?"

"Blimey Carter, how'd you ever get to be 'Little Deer who goes swift and sure through forest' if you get lost all the time?"

"Well…" Carter thought for a moment.

Newkirk's anxiety was mounting and he rolled his eyes. This was not the time for one of Carter's long-winded stories. "Never mind, we've got to get moving before these rails blow." His outburst surprised even him and, blushing, he added, "Kinch wants us on Stalag 13's side of the river before the action starts."

That said, Newkirk hurriedly turned to lead the way, missing the mischievous grin on Carter's face.

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LeBeau and Kinch finished their task and now waited at the rendezvous point for their two comrades.

"What is taking them so long?" Louis fretted. "They should be here!"

"We _are_ here!" Carter stepped out of the shadows, and LeBeau broke into a smile that he immediately wiped off his face to give credit to his reprimand.

"What took you so long?" LeBeau demanded.

"What took us so long? Just because all you had to do was snip some bleeding wires! We had to…" Newkirk fumed.

"Quiet down! We have to get going." Kinch turned and silently began leading them closer to the foot bridge that would take them back across the river separating them from Stalag 13.

As they made their approach a lone guard loomed in front of them at the entrance to the bridge. Kinch motioned for everyone to drop down and indicated the barrier in front of them. Looking at his watch, he saw their time was running short if they were going to make it to the other side of the river before the explosions started.

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Lutz back at the spot where he and Tiger had watched the trucks going in and out of the woods on the road leading to the suspected factory, peered over the rim of the hill. It was quiet. Relieved, he was about to slip over the crest and work his way down when…

_Gunfire! _He snapped his head in the direction of the noise.

"No!" The word spilled out with determination as if to will this not to be happening. And then, suddenly, as if obeying his order, the multiple rapid firing of guns stopped.

Lutz rolled over and slid down under the crest of the hill.

_That's not a good sign. There should have…would have…been more of an exchange unless the Gestapo got the drop on them…and… _Lutz took in a sobering breath, but the luxury of exhaling was ripped away as the sky he was staring at suddenly rumbled and lit with fire. Gasping his breath in deeper, he pressed himself back into the side of the hill, instinctively shying away from the explosions.

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_Rat…tat…tat…ping. Tat…tat…tat…tat…tat…zing…_

_What the…!_

Adrenalin flowing, Hogan's heart raced, rushing oxygen to muscles and organs, preparing his body to…

_Run, **genius,** before you become a hole in the ground!_

Chips of limbs, tree bark, and clumps of snow pummeled him as he ran, listening to the pinging and ringing of bullets careening off of trees and rocks.

"Agh," he groaned as bits of wood stung his face as he ran without direction.

_Find cover…**now**!_

Desperately, his eyes darted across the dark snowscape while hot lead seared the skin over his left shoulder, as it went whizzing past his ear. Reflexively jerking his body in the opposite direction and lowering his head, he ran from tree to tree, skillfully twisting and dodging, trying to keep himself between the lead projectiles and the explosives at his waist.

_Too many guns…_

His left arm, seemingly of its own volition, suddenly flew forward, no longer cocooning the explosives at his waist.

_What the…_ Looking down, his puzzled brain finally caught up with the exiting slug as the dispersing force wave reverberated through his body.

"Ugh!"

Simultaneously, fire exploded across his back, as the impact of another bullet sent him crashing down to his knees, flipping him into a diagonal roll, leaving him flat on his back with a moan.

"Mmm."

Immediately forcing himself back up on his knees, shock spread through him, drenching his face in sweat. He painfully pulled his errant left arm back over the bulging bundles still nestled inside his jacket, and, blinking, forced his eyes to focus and survey the damage. Blood was everywhere. It dripped off his injured arm as he traced the damage back to his left side. Disgusted with himself for getting shot, he commanded…

_Stay on your feet!_

Pulling his right knee up, he stubbornly planted his foot squarely on the ground, and forced his left foot forward. The earth pitched and rolled as he fought to stay conscious. Desperately needing to disappear, he propelled himself over what he made out to be the edge of a shallow embankment and limply rolled into a dip in the forest floor coming to rest against a fallen tree.

"Ahh!" A fire storm of pain shot through his battered body. His world spun and he closed his eyes to fight back the nausea, as bullets continued to whiz over head.

And then, suddenly…it was quiet.

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The German squad shot into the darkness.

Hans, the chains still dangling around his neck, fired incessantly, changing directions with each squeeze of the trigger and straining to see through the smoke- and steam-filled air. The snap and pow of the hammer and gunpowder flashed off the tip of his gun, creating a wild and insane dance of fire and smoke in a deafening chorus.

Time seemed to go into slow motion. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his comrades in various crouching and lunging positions, firing as wildly as he was.

"Halt!" Hegel raised his arm and brought it down in a stop motion. "Cease firing!"

The echoes were still reverberating through the woods when Hochstetter caught up and stormed through the patrol to where Hegel stood, arm hanging at his side, gun pointing at the ground.

"Where are they?" Hochstetter looked beyond Hegel, his own gun pointing into the snow-filled night searching for a target to fire on.

"False alarm, Major Hochstetter. I saw movement and fired before I realized it was only a rabbit." Gesturing to the patrol that was with him he continued, "These men started firing before I could stop them." It was all Hegel could do to look sincere. His plan should work He had lulled Hochstetter away from the side of the forest where he had seen what he believed to be Underground activity. _This ought to guarantee Hochstetter will come up empty handed_

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Heart beating wildly, breathing labored, Hogan clutched at the agony in his side and opened his eyes, struggling to hear the inevitable approach of the enemy over the ringing in his ears.

But instead…

_Voices?_

Hogan held his breath and listened.

_Yeah…talking…but what are they saying?_ He couldn't quite make it out. _They don't seem to be getting any closer…at least not yet_.

He exhaled. If he could act now, while they were reconnoitering, perhaps…

_Got to move…got to…_

Attempting to lean forward he fell back with a moan and closed his eyes, as another spasm of pain forced him to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

"Mmm!"

His body wasn't cooperating. He tried again, but his muscles had liquefied. He needed time. Time to pull himself together, time…he didn't have. He had no choice but to wait for the enemy to come and collect him. _Sorry guys, _he apologized. His whole body tingled as the cold snow melted on his face, keeping him conscious, for which he was grateful. If he was leaving this world by Hochstetter's hand, at least he'd like to see it coming. He wished he could offer the same advantage to his men. Once Hochstetter identified him, his men would have to run for their lives.

His right hand pressed into his side. He could feel the blood oozing between his fingers. Looking up, he caught a brief glimpse of the heavens, as the moon shone through a break in the clouds, and a small smart-aleck smirk twisted at the corner of his lips. _Next time...You take point!_

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	13. Chapter 13

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 13

Fireworks

"Morgan!"

Tiger reached out throwing her arms around the _missing_ boy. Then looking past him she asked, "Where's Lutz?"

Morgan looked at her puzzled, "Lutz?"

"Yes…" Frowning, Tiger looked more closely at Morgan. "Didn't Lutz find you?"

"Was he looking for me?"

Tiger nodded. "We ran into your father. He told us what happened and after your father left us Lutz went to look for you." Tiger stepped back and finished, "I guess he must have missed you. Or did we guess wrong? We thought you had gone to warn Colonel Hogan and his men and…"

"I did!"

"You did? Did you find them?" Tiger's hope showed on her face as she waited for Morgan's answer.

"Yes…"

"Thank God!" Her prayer of thanksgiving sincere, Tiger exhaled and collapsed onto the couch. Relief drained her resolve, bringing tears to her eyes as the fear that had been consuming her ebbed away.

"I ran to the barn but everyone had left. Luckily, I found their trail in the forest and was able to follow it. I caught up with them inside the woods surrounding the factory." Morgan dropped onto the couch beside Tiger.

"Good boy!" Tiger beamed and then quickly added, "But…you took a big risk. And…well…I'm very grateful. I was afraid I had sent those men to their deaths." Tiger grabbed Morgan by his shoulders with gratitude, as she felt both relief and guilt. Not only had she sent Hogan and the others into a Gestapo trap, but she could have lost Morgan tonight, as well. "I should have gathered more information…I should have waited…even if I had waited one more night, you would have learned of your fathers involvement with the Gestapo and the probability of this all being a trap…"

Morgan shook his head, "If anyone should have known more, it was me. I saw the Gestapo at my father's bakery. But they are everywhere, and I didn't want to…that is, I wouldn't let myself think…" Morgan closed his eyes and sighed, "I should have learned more about him. I mean he was right there and…and…" A tear slid out from behind Morgan's closed eye and slid down his cheek.

Tiger allowed her own relief to dampen her cheeks as well and pulled Morgan into an embrace.

"It's over," she assured. "Colonel Hogan and his men are safely back in camp by now, and Lutz is…" Tiger pulled back, and looking at Morgan again tensed.

"Oh no, where is Lutz? If he didn't run into you and Colonel Hogan, where is he?"

Morgan stared back and shook his head. "We didn't see Lutz. Colonel Hogan's men and I separated at the bridge and I…"

Tiger tensed and looked hard at Morgan. The boy's anxiety was causing him to ramble, she thought. "You mean _Colonel Hogan_ and his men left you at the bridge." She corrected, as her anger began to wipe away her premature relief.

"No…" Morgan corrected attempting to continue.

Tiger stood abruptly, morphing into the Underground leader she was, she looked down on Morgan and demanded, "Where is Colonel Hogan?"

His youthful innocence spoke without hesitation, as he proudly proclaimed, "He stayed behind to blow up the factory."

Morgan barely had time to see the deepening red rage sweep up Tiger's face before she had spun around and raced for her coat, French adjectives spilling out in a torrent.

Morgan jumped to his feet. "It's all right, Tiger. Colonel Hogan sent his men out to create a diversion. Hochstetter and his troops will be drawn away and Colonel Hogan will bomb the factory. Like he said, it may be their best opportunity." Morgan continued watching Tiger angrily pulling at her buttons. Trying to calm her he added, "It makes perfect sense!"

Spinning she growled, "_Perfect sense_?"

Cringing, Morgan froze. His attempt to calm the situation had failed miserably and Tiger leapt on the unsuspecting boy.

Taking two deliberate steps toward Morgan, Tiger warned, "His _silver tongue_ has corrupted your thinking, too, if you think walking into a Gestapo trap makes _perfect sense_!" More French superlatives spilled out as her anger flowed faster than her ability to translate into German.

Before he knew it, Morgan was staring at an empty space where Tiger had once stood. Slightly dazed at the abrupt turn of events, he ran for the door, following Tiger into the night.

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What do you mean you're shooting at rabbits?" Hochstetter spun on Hegel, "Do you realize you just gave away our…"

_BOOM! BOOM! KABLOOM!_

The horizon lit up as the thunderous noise rolled across the night sky. Hochstetter spun back around, the light bouncing off of his face, as he stood in shocked amazement. It was the lull before the storm.

Momentarily confused, the Gestapo Major took several stilted steps forward and froze. How could there be explosions on the other side of town when… _He couldn't have known…but yet he had to know…why else would he be there and not here? Not again! Not…Aagh!_

"Bahh!" His anger barreled out. "Those explosions are on the other side of Hammelburg."

Spinning around he stared at the faces looking up into the glowing night sky. Their fascination with the event angered him further. Rolling his hands into fists, he bellowed, "Follow me!"

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The soldier guarding the foot-bridge was violently knocked to the ground as the repercussion from the explosion swept past.

The saboteurs, slightly more prepared, lay on the cold snow covered ground before the wave hit.

The other German guard on the opposite side of the river rushed to his comrade's side.

"Get up, get up! Come, there has been an explosion!" he called as he pulled on the downed guards arm raising him to his feet and tugging him off in the direction of the carnage.

It was the break Kinch, Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter were waiting for, and they quickly took advantage of the abandoned posts.

Newkirk, immediately on his feet, was followed closely by LeBeau. Kinch, the last in the line, reached down picking Carter up by the belt, and guided him ahead of him, as they made their way across the river, hot-footing it back to camp.

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_Ring…ring…ring! Ring…ring…ring…ring…_

Dogs barking, men shouting, Klink reached for his monocle, jumped from his bed and raced to his window. All the search lights were now directed into the compound.

_Hogaaan! I'll have you in irons for the rest of the war! I warned you! No one escapes from Stalag 13! _ Grabbing his robe he stumbled toward the door and onto the porch.

"Langenscheidt, what's going on?" Klink called out to the Corporal guarding the front of his residence.

"An explosion, Herr Kommandant!" Langenscheidt pointed out of the compound at the glowing fire ball in the sky.

Klink squinted at the bright light illuminating his face and then looked back into the compound. Walking to the porch railing overlooking the compound he asked, "Then there is no escape being made?"

"No, Herr Kommandant!" Langenscheidt quickly answered.

Klink leaned further over the railing. "Schultz! Schuuultz!"

The red faced guard huffed into view. "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant?"

"Schultz, are the prisoners in their barracks?"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!"

Klink straightened with relief and readjusted his monocle. "See that it stays that way! I'm going back to bed."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."

Klink looked back at the dwindling fire in the distance. "Honestly, how do they expect me to get any rest with these constant acts of sabotage?"

Schultz frowned, "What do you think they blew up, Herr Kommandant?"

"Who knows, that is Major Hochstetter's problem." And then under his breath, added, "One can only hope Major Hochstetter was in it."

Schultz smiled and added, "Jawohl."

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Lutz watched as trucks carrying Hochstetter and his men plowed through the snow and out of the woods surrounding the factory. The last truck had barely left when he scrambled down the rim, crossed the road and headed off in the direction of the gunfire.

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Morgan had just caught up with Tiger when the explosions and firestorm lit up the horizon shaking the ground. Both stood staring. Morgan broke his gaze first and looked at Marie.

"There's the diversion," he whispered.

Tiger snapped her head in Morgan's direction and wavered. She realized she wouldn't make it to the factory in time to stop the foolhardy Colonel Hogan.

"He'll be all right, Marie," Morgan assured, using Tiger's name as a means of softening his reassurance.

The bitterness melted from her eyes as she clung to his calmness. _Think, Marie, don't act hastily…not again. Don't put more lives at stake by thinking with your heart and not your head. He'll be all right._

Reaching out, she took Morgan's hand. "You had better go home. You're father is worried about you. If you don't return, he may follow the explosions thinking you are there."

Morgan's own fear over his father turning him in to the Nazis, all of a sudden, seemed to be unfounded. He decided the fear and the panic over his father's involvement with the Gestapo had made him irrational. "Will _you_ be all right?"

Squeezing his hand she assured, "We have both had a very emotional night. It's over..." looking over her shoulder at the dwindling explosion, she added, "…or it soon will be. I'm sure you are right. Colonel Hogan always seems to land on his feet." Smiling, she added, "Perhaps we should call _him_, Tiger." Looking back at Morgan, she finished, "You've done enough for one night. Go home. I'll go and monitor the radio."

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Hogan continued to listen. The voices had stopped. It was quiet.

The physical shock that had consumed him seemed to be leveling out. His muscles began to respond to his commands. Though, he wasn't sure that was entirely a good thing. Along with movement came waves of excruciating agony.

Gritting his teeth, and forcing himself to roll over onto his knees, he pressed the elbow of his left arm against the hole in his side trying to keep pressure on the site of the bleeding with an arm fighting the effects of its own bullet wound.

Pausing, he waited for his nausea to pass. _It has to be a trap. But what are my choices. I can't just lie here and wait to bleed to death._

Carefully reaching out with his good arm, he buried his hand in the snow, and painfully inched his way up the slight incline he had taken refuge in. "Ugh."

_Shh! Swallow it. They have to be waiting for you to make a move. Don't help them out._

Cautiously drawing his gun in his trembling right hand, he looked out over the area, that only moments earlier, had been a battlefield, and waited for the enemy to spring their trap, and either order his surrender or…finish what they had started.


	14. Chapter 14

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 14

Unfinished Business

Hegel's car brought up the rear of the procession.

"Drop back, driver. Let the motorcade pull ahead and then head back into Hammelburg."

"Jawohl, Herr Major." Hans, Hegel's driver, shifted in his seat as he eased back on the gas and made his departure at the next crossroad. Hans was relieved to return to his assignment as Hegel's driver. The chains he had been given charge of by Major Hochstetter, had been a punishment to carry. The back of his neck still burned from the effort, even though he had kept the majority of the weight spread across his shoulders. There was no doubt they would quickly become unbearably heavy wrapped around arms and legs…which obviously was the Major's intent. Turning his attention back to the snow-covered road, Hans made a mental note to never upset Major Hochstetter.

Hegel, oblivious to his driver's discomfort, stared hard at the back of the seat in front of him while replaying the night's activities. _Someone_ had been in the woods; that much he was sure of. Information had been leaked out at random and on purpose to throw out the widest net possible and lure the Underground into the trap. But there was still no proof Hochstetter was correct in his suspicions of the American Colonel who was imprisoned in the Prisoner of War camp located in the middle of all the sabotage activity.

_I need more information._ Hegel looked out at the passing roads. _Perhaps the baker knows more than he's telling._ Seeing the road he was looking for just ahead, he ordered, "Turn here."

Hans instinctively looked into the rearview mirror, meeting Hegel's cold calculating eyes and with a nod, acknowledged the order while quickly making his turn.

Leaning forward, Hegel looked out the front windshield, scanning the houses as they passed, until he saw the one he was looking for.

"Pull over."

The staff car rolled to a stop. Hans slipped the car into neutral and pulled on the brake.

"Wait for me here."

"Jawohl, Herr Major."

Hegel fastening the top button on his coat, pushed open the car door and exited. It was quiet. Pausing, he looked up and down the deserted street. Large flakes of snow drifted down collecting on his outer garments, shrouding him in a layer of white. It was an evil misrepresentation of purity. A parody that would prove itself as the night wore on.

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The lights from Stalag 13 focused inward and continued to play across the barracks as an ordinary-looking tree stump finished admitting four black-clad POW's back into the prison population.

A final tug on the latch and the last man descended into the tunnels. The usual nervous chatter broke out as Kinch's appearance and nod signaled all was secure.

"Blimey," Newkirk sighed, "I thought we'd had it when I saw that bleeding guard standing in front of our only way back to camp." Pulling out a cigarette, he quickly put it to his lips and lit it, drawing in a large volume of smoke.

"Oui!" LeBeau turned to look at Kinch. "When did the Krauts find out about that footbridge? I just used it last week and there were no guards there." Plucking the burning cigarette from Newkirk's hand, Louis inhaled his share of the smoldering addiction.

Kinch shrugged, wiped the melting snow from his face and mumbled, "I don't know, but don't let me forget to tell the Colonel when he gets back. We'll have to find _or build_ another route." Pulling off his jacket, Kinch moved down the tunnel toward the changing room.

"Yeah, the Colonel's lucky he's already on our side of the river," Carter remarked, as he swiped the black cap off of his head. Then, without pausing, he changed the subject. "I sure wish we could have seen ole Hochstetter's face when those explosions went off."

"That would have been a sight all right!" Newkirk chirped, while slapping Carter on the back. "You do a good job, mate!"

"Thanks, Newkirk!" Carter beamed proudly, taking the offered cigarette from LeBeau and inhaling a lungful of the burning tobacco. The warm smoke worked its magic, relieving tension as muscles began to relax.

The Frenchman, hopping on one leg, precariously pulled his other leg out of his pants before landing on both feet and looking up to comment. "Hurry, lets get changed and upstairs. We might be able to see the factory blow up before the bridge explodes."

"_If_ the factory blows up," Newkirk corrected, as he wiped the black off of his face.

"Don't you think the Colonel will be able to get to the factory?" The worry in Carter's voice was aimed directly at the Englander.

Once again taking possession of the cigarette, Newkirk shrugged. "It depends on whether there really _is_ a factory to blow up, doesn't it?"

Carter stared blindly. It hadn't occurred to him that there _wouldn't_ be a factory. The fact that the factory may be used as a way to trap them, yes… but that there was no factory at all? Well, that was even more devious than there actually being a factory, and it being used as bait. Carter blinked and shifted his weight as he considered this possibility. The thought of the Colonel staying to blow up a factory that might not even be there scared him. Because, if the factory wasn't there…what was?

Louis finished buttoning his shirt and, seeing Carter's worried look, pulled on his elbow encouragingly. "Come on Andrew, I'm betting Hochstetter isn't that clever and that Colonel Hogan will be giving the Major a headache tonight that reaches all the way to Berlin."

Carter's concern eased a bit and he looked to Kinch. "You coming, Kinch?"

"No, you guys go ahead," Kinch squeezed out of the changing room plucked the half gone cigarette away from Newkirk's pursed lips and walked over to the radio. "I'm going to stay with the radio in case the Underground tries to get in touch with us."

Newkirk frowned. Then, looking at LeBeau and Carter, he nodded toward Kinch, and commented in a low voice, "Translation: he'll be up when the Colonel gets back."

Carter felt his anxiety return as he studied Kinch's drawn face. Pulling on his fatigues, he volunteered, "You two go on up, I'll wait with Kinch."

Shocked, LeBeau and Newkirk stared dumbfounded at their munitions man. Finally, LeBeau found his voice and offered, "No, Carter, you go up with Newkirk. I'll stay with Kinch. I know you like to see your bombs explode."

"I don't know…" Carter answered, not sure he should allow himself any pleasure with the Colonel still out.

"Oui, go on. You know Colonel Hogan. If he thinks it's a trap, he'll head back." Louis waved his hand, "Besides, there are a few things I need to add to our list before Kinch radio's London our report." Louis winked at Newkirk and continued, "Anyway…if you've seen one explosion, you've seen them…"

Carter's mouth dropped open and his eyes stared in astonishment. Sputtering in disbelief, he gasped, "How can you…"

"Watch it, Louis," Newkirk interrupted. "You'll give Carter a heart attack!" Newkirk smiled broadly and began pulling Carter toward the ladder. "Come on, Andrew, or we'll miss the whole show!"

Louis's smile faded as his friends disappeared. With the banter over, he turned to join Kinch at the radio.

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Schiller sat in his darkened parlor. After Morgan's return, father and son had had a brief but intense discussion. Schiller didn't expect his son to forgive him, but he hoped Morgan could at least understand what drove him to give information to the Gestapo. Having two sons already in uniform was not easy, especially when he didn't agree with Hitler's philosophy.

_What will putting on a uniform do to you, Morgan?_ Schiller sighed. He didn't know what would be worse, Morgan's induction into the military or… his failure to comply. Surely his failure to go when called would be the more immediate danger. _Oh, Morgan, what have I done, filling your head with my ideals._

Schiller's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.

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Hogan blinked trying to force his eyes to see what wasn't there.

_Where are they? _

He pressed his elbow harder into his side as another wave of pain forced him to clinch his teeth. His nostrils flared as he quickly drew in a breath and held it until the agony passed and it was safe to exhale. Again focusing on the area around him he strained to see movement in the darkened woods.

_They've turned their flashlights off. Why would they do that?_

He crouched lower, thinking it was a trap. Hearing nothing, he looked around to see if he was being approached from behind. That's when he saw it, a glow in the sky on the other side of Hammelburg.

_What the…? I didn't hear…how...? _

Still crouched on the forest floor he rubbed his eyes with the back of his arm, his gun still clasped in his trembling hand.

_I must have passed out. _

He again looked around him at the quiet darkness.

_Maybe they **are** gone._

Forcing himself to stand, he stumbled forward, his curiosity driving him on. The factory had to be just ahead.

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Morgan looked out of his upstairs bedroom window. He had heard the knock on the door followed by voices and was just about to go back downstairs, when the front door again opened and closed. Now, peering out, he saw his father leaving with…

_Gestapo?_

He spun around thinking to run after them, and then turned back to the window in time to see them both disappear into the waiting staff car.

_Father…what…?_

His hand slid down the cold window pane, where it had had been stopped as he reached out to pull his father back. His heart raced as fear strangled him, wrenching his breath away. This was not good. Being taken away by the Gestapo was never good, especially not at night, and especially not after an act of sabotage. His conversation with his father came flooding back. His father had promised to stop. He had promised…

_But how do you stop? You can't just tell the Gestapo to go away! _

Morgan turned from the window, ridden with guilt.

_Father! Have I forced you to…_

He wept for the second time that night, both out of fear and grief. Would he see his father again? Would the Gestapo be back? Morgan froze. Would the Gestapo be back? Suddenly his thoughts were for the safety of his mother.

_I've got to get her out of here! But will she come?_

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Finding no patrols, Lutz picked up speed as he worked his way through the woods. Did the Gestapo take Hogan and his men out in the trucks he saw leaving? He continued to search for a sign of a scuffle, or spent bullets, or discarded cartridges, or…

_Blood!_

He dropped to a crouch. Following the trail with his eyes he looked over the slight embankment where what looked like a large pool of blood was disappearing under the gathering snow.

_Someone **was** hit! But was it one of theirs or one of ours?_

His heart sank as he realized if someone was shot then the Colonel and the others were seen, and if they were seen…

_But the exchange of gunfire didn't last long enough for them to have lost. There would have been a battle. They wouldn't have just surrendered! This doesn't make any sense…unless the explosion made Hochstetter leave…no…Hochstetter wouldn't have left if he thought he had the saboteurs pinned down. He wouldn't have… What the heck happened here?_

Looking back down at the blood, he followed it with his eyes once again, and began to see more. There was only one set of prints leading away. One set of prints—accompanied by drops of blood.

_If this was one of Hochstetter's men, others would have come to help. And if the Gestapo had known they had shot somebody, they would have come to get him. For some reason they thought whoever it was they were shooting at got away or…or what?_

Lutz looked out into the forest with a new awareness. Somehow, or for some reason, Hogan and his men had split up. That would explain the presence of one man here and the explosions on the other side of Hammelburg.

_They must have seen it was a trap and…_

Lutz was back on his feet. It was now obvious to him what Hogan was doing. Just as it was obvious that their plan had gone wrong, and one of them was now in dire need of help.

_But why did Hochstetter and his men all leave? Maybe they didn't all leave! Maybe Hochstetter is just out there, somewhere, waiting._

Lutz paused, but only briefly, before he pointed his gun ahead of him and committed himself to finding the wounded man.

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Tiger crossed the attic and reached behind the wooden shelves holding odds and ends gathered over the course of raising a family. Gustoff and his wife had been married for forty five years, and their home was filled with memories and memoirs…even here in the attic. Tiger looked at the shelf longingly as it slid back, revealing a small alcove housing a secret radio. _Someday…maybe she too would have such memories..maybe..._

She stopped her thoughts and gazed at the radio with both dread and eagerness. _What will you tell me this time, my short-wave friend?_ Placing the headset on her head, she flicked the switch and set the dial.

"Tiger calling Papa Bear. Tiger Calling Papa Bear. Come in Papa Bear!"

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_I'm too close to quit. _

Hogan could see the building across the clearing. It looked deserted. He hoped it was. His agility was no longer in question. It was gone. His legs were heavy.

_I'll just rest a moment…and then…_

He looked up from the ground he found himself staring at. He didn't remember looking down. Straining his eyes he stared at the factory. He just needed to get a look inside. He could see a window on the east side, the darker side of the building. Surely he could make it that far. The pain was no longer as bad. His senses were shutting down, his thoughts weren't clear. He had to force himself to stay focused, to keep going. All he really wanted to do was lie down. He reached up to grab a low-lying branch and pull himself to his feet, when he felt a hand land on top of his. Pulling his hand away, he reached for the gun in his belt and turned to meet his attacker. The action took more strength than he anticipated, his breath left him, the face blurred and he stumbled forward collapsing into the waiting arms.

Lutz's, hand slipped on the blood-drenched clothing, and he lowered Hogan, dropping him the last eight inches onto the ground.

"Damn! Sorry, Colonel." Lutz apologized as he rolled the unconscious man onto his back. He unzipped Hogan's jacket to see what he was dealing with, and was shocked to see two charges of dynamite staring back at him. The black shirt, matted with blood, clung to Hogan's skin. A tear in the fabric was visible in the front and not more than an inch from the explosives. Casting a quick glance at Hogan's face, he swallowed hard, as he realized what would have happened if the bullet had hit the dynamite.

_You're one lucky…_

Shaking his head in amazement, Lutz turned back to his examination and gingerly ran his finger over the shredded fabric.

_Were you shot from the front or is this an exit wound? _

Reaching around behind, he ran his hand down Hogan's shirt and found another tear.

_Good. Maybe you're not still carrying that bullet. It looks like the bleeding has stopped. The blood and the fabric seemed to have worked well together to clot the wound._

Lutz removed his scarf from around his neck and opening his own coat tore a piece off his shirt tail. He folded it, and he placed it over the matted fabric at the site of the wound and tied it in place with his scarf, adding additional pressure to the site.

_This should keep it from starting to bleed again, at least until I can get you back to your men. _

Hogan groaned as consciousness returned.

Lutz finished zipping Hogan's jacket back into place, minus the two dynamite charges he had discarded on the ground.

Opening his eyes, Hogan blinked, trying to focus on his surroundings.

"Lutz?" The question came out in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes, Colonel. It's me. You've been shot."

"No, kidding," Hogan grimaced. "Help me up."

Lutz grabbed Hogan's shoulder and pulled him forward until he was more or less sitting. Hogan grabbed Lutz's forearm to keep from falling back, and Lutz stood, bringing Hogan up with him.

"Here, Colonel. Put your arm around my neck and let's get back to camp." Lutz took a step and stopped as Hogan stood his ground. "What's wrong?" Lutz asked, afraid there may be another wound keeping the Colonel from moving his legs.

Hogan took in a sharp breath, "The factory."

"The factory?" Lutz looked at the determined eyes staring back at him and it suddenly dawned on him what Hogan meant. "You can't be serious!"

"We're almost…there…can't let this…opportunity…go…" Hogan struggled to get the words out. It took all of his strength to talk.

Lutz stared back, not believing what he was hearing. "Absolutely not! I'm getting you…and **me**, out of here!"

Hogan pulled his arm away from Lutz's neck and crumbled to his knees. "You go…on. I'll…be…along."

Lutz bent to help him back up. "Colonel…"

Hogan pulled away again and picked up one of the discarded dynamite packs and began struggling to his feet. "Can't stop…now…too close…" Hogan took a step and went down again, landing on one knee.

"Colonel, you can't even stand up!" Lutz, unnerved by Hogan's determination, knelt next to him.

"I'll be…okay…"

"No you won't. Give me that." Grabbing the dynamite, Lutz shoved it into his coat. "It looks like the only way to get you out of here is for me to go have a look at that factory."

"I can't ask…you…to…" Hogan's determination was no longer enough to keep him going and he again fell, half comatose, into Lutz's arms.

Lutz settled him against a tree. "Wait here. Do you hear me, Colonel Hogan? Just wait here, I'll be back." Hogan muttered something unintelligible and closed his eyes.

"Damn… Marie is right…pig headed…" Lutz quietly complained as he left the safety of the forest and crossed the clearing—to finish the job.

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	15. Chapter 15

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 15

Mission Accomplished

_It will take weeks to clean this up and lay more track!_

Light danced on Hochstetter's face as he stood staring at the hole in the earth and the twisted rail. Nearby trees burned, crackling in a red glow and lighting up the night, while men worked diligently around them trying to stop the fires. It was becoming a too-familiar picture, and Berlin would want to know what he was going to do about it.

Hearing one of his men walking up behind him, Hochstetter barked orders through clenched teeth, "Call Gestapo headquarters in Dusseldorf and get more troops here. I'm going to need to take some men to help me scour the woods for the saboteurs, and I can't take _anyone_ away from containing this fire until we get some reinforcements."

Opening his mouth to speak, Lieutenant Dresdner tensed, steeling himself for the repercussion that would follow his next statement. "The phone lines are down, Herr Major. We can't _call_ anyone."

Hochstetter's reaction was immediate but not as expected. Instead of the normal tirade, he slowly turned staring in disbelief unable to utter a single word. Reality was hitting him hard, as he began to understand that not only had the saboteurs blown up the train tracks, but they had successfully caused a delay to anyone going after them. The Major's face deepened from red to a gnarly purple as his rage totally consumed him, literally taking his breath away and freezing him where he stood.

_How dare…they can't do this…nobody makes a fool of…_ Hochstetter's inner turmoil ran the gauntlet from anger, to embarrassment, to what excuse to give to his superiors.

_How do I explain another successful attack without making myself look…incompetent?_ It was a sobering question, one that freed him from his frozen stance and propelled him forward to meet the wide-eyed man standing rigidly at attention in front of him.

With steam spewing from his mouth, he pledged in a cold oath, "I will catch them if it's the last thing I do!" Then clenching his fists, his voice lowered into a menacing growl. "Even if I have to track them after this war is over. I'll… " His voice faltered, as he imagined, exacting his revenge…but first he had to catch them. "Argh!" Yelling in frustration, he broke his stare away from Dresdner and paced back toward the fire, his mind once again working on the scenario that had been forced upon him. It had been an elaborately laid scheme, designed to deliberately humiliate him. It couldn't have been played out any better…or…could it? Suddenly he stopped in his tracks.

_What if this wasn't the end of their attack. What if… _He spun back around to face Dresdner.

"The factory!"

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_Idiot! What makes you think you can pull this off? What if that factory is full of soldiers?_

As compellingly as a moth to light, Lutz cautiously crossed the open ground to the darker east side of the factory and flattened himself out against the cold wall as he stopped to catch his breath.

_I don't believe it; I'm still alive. So far, so good. _

He took in a deep breath and held it as he leaned over and peered into the factory window.

_Looks deserted, but looks can be deceiving. After all, Colonel Hogan **looks** like a sane man, too! But he chooses to stay in Germany_ _blowing up bridges, trains, artillery guns and anything else the Nazis can use, instead of escaping back to London._

Lutz shook his head in disbelief as he realized, A_nd_ _now he's got me doing it! Well, here goes nothing._

Lutz stepped in front of the window and placing the heels of his hand under the lower sill pushed up. Surprisingly…it moved!

_Good!—I think?_

Lutz stuck his head in and looked around. It was dark…and quiet. Placing his hands on either side of the window sill, he climbed inside and waited for his eyes to adjust.

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"…over and out."

Kinch pulled the headpiece off of one ear and looked silently at LeBeau, while trying to make the pieces of information he had just been told fit with what was happening tonight.

"_Who_ didn't we see, Kinch?" LeBeau worriedly searched Kinch's face as he tried to understand the one sided conversation he had heard Kinch have with Tiger.

"Lutz," Kinch answered, momentarily looking at LeBeau and then past him at nothing.

"I take it you mean, after we left the barn?" LeBeau prodded.

Kinch nodded, looking back at LeBeau. "Tiger said she and Lutz ran into Morgan's father after they got back to town and he told them about Morgan hearing him and Morgan's mother talking about…well you know the rest."

"Oui! And…" LeBeau asked, eagerly.

"And Lutz went to find Morgan. They figured Morgan had gone to try to warn us about the factory being a possible trap."

"And Lutz hasn't come back?" LeBeau asked.

Kinch shook his head. "No, but Morgan has."

"And Morgan didn't see Lutz after he left us?" LeBeau asked.

Rubbing his face, Kinch shook his head. "No."

"Lutz couldn't have known we separated." Louis answered, continuing to work through the sequence. "And when there was an explosion on the other side of town…" Louis stopped.

Dropping his hand, Kinch looked up. "Exactly—when that explosion went off, he would have known we changed our plans and figured that Morgan had got to us. So what would you do?"

"I'd go back to town," Louis answered, nodding.

"So why didn't he?" Kinch asked.

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Klink nestled back down into his bed. The prisoners…_his_ prisoners were all still safely sequestered in their barracks. _Let Hochstetter deal with his saboteurs, it doesn't involve me and I'm going to get some sleep. _Removing his monocle, he laid it on the nightstand as his mind drifted to the men Hochstetter had borrowed to help guard the factory.

_None of my men had better get hurt tonight._ _Hmm, that explosion was west of Hammelburg. According to Hochstetter and the rumors all over town, the factory is north of Hammelburg…Hochstetter was guarding the wrong spot! _

A self-satisfied smile crept onto Klink's face as he reached up and clicked off the light.

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Semi-conscious and leaning against the tree where Lutz had left him, Hogan's reality had changed. He had gone where he always went, given the opportunity and a few minutes alone in between missions: home. The difference this time being it was not through letters and comforting memories, it was the uncontrolled dream world of an injured soldier's mind taking the war home with him.

The only hint of physical movement was taking place behind closed eyelids, as eyes blind to the here and now darted back and forth following the nightmare taking place in front of them.

_No! Take your hands off of her! _Hogan, was standing in his family's home, watching Hochstetter lead his mother away in chains, his father dead on the floor. _I can't move my feet! I've got to do something…I've got to stop him… too late…I'm—too late…_And then the room melted away and he was in a cockpit dropping bombs…_Now—now—now!_ He could feel the plane vibrating in his hands and suddenly—he remembered in one horrific instant that—he was over his own hometown_. What did I do?_

Hogan's heart raced with the agony being inflicted on him as his body remained paralyzed in sleep, until suddenly—his eyes flew open in a panic and reality, followed by physical pain, resumed.

"Aah," Hogan moaned as he tried to move and his imaginary hell was replaced by a real one. _Where am I?_

His eyes took in the snowy scene as his memory returned. He looked down to see if the bullet wounds, too, had been part of his nightmare, but the hole in his jacket and his blood stained-hands told him otherwise.

Squeezing his eyes shut he grimaced. _Great!_

He leaned his head back against the tree supporting him and sighed as he forced himself to remember. _Lutz! He went to…to…check out the factory. How long has he been gone?_

Beginning to raise his left arm to look at his watch, he was stopped by a jolt of pain. His upper arm burned like fire from just above his elbow to his shoulder. Sweat popped out on his forehead. _Mmm, bad move!_

Not to be deterred from his objective, he reached for his left wrist with his right hand and looking down, gritted his teeth as he turned his arm to see the time. Panting and squinting, he strained to see the dial on his watch. _Twenty-three fifty._ He rolled the time over in his mind and then chastised, _So_ _what time was it when he left, Einstein?_

Letting go of his injured arm, he tried to stand up. First using his good arm to shift his weight, he drew up one leg and then the other, until he was on his knees. _So far, so good,_ he thought stopping to catch his breath.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice came in from above and behind him and his brain rushed to identify it. The hackles went up on the back of his neck as the surprise swept through him.

"Lutz?" Hogan asked, as he carefully looked over his right shoulder.

"I told you to stay _put_," Lutz continued, as he bent to help Hogan up.

"What took you so long?" Hogan asked, accusingly, and having no idea how long Lutz had actually been gone. It was a ploy that had served him well in the past—the trick was to shift the focus of the conversation away from yourself and put the other guy on the defense, while removing yourself from the line of fire.

Lutz took the bait.

"I wasn't sure how to set the timer. I think I finally figured it out, but we'd better get going in case I figured wrong." Lutz wrapped Hogan's arm around his neck for the second time that night and took a step. This time, Hogan followed, continuing to ask questions.

"Then…it _was…_a factory?" Hogan's breathing was labored.

"No, it was an empty building. But I figured you would want to leave Hochstetter a calling card. Now, shut up and save your strength," Lutz ordered. "We've got some ground to cover."

"You figured…right…thanks," Hogan gasped, in indifference to Lutz's _request_.

"Shh! If you think I'm going to carry you back," Lutz shared, in a mock threat, "you can think again. Now stop talking!"

This time, his strength ebbing, Hogan obeyed.

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"Go upstairs and see if there have been any explosions yet." Kinch took the headset off and started down the tunnel in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" Louis asked.

"I'm going to get Baker. I'll meet you back here." Kinch broke into a run.

Louis spun on a dime and raced for the ladder. Kinch was worried, and if Kinch was nervous…so was he!

Popping his head out of the tunnel he called out in a loud whisper, "Hey, Kinch wants to know if there have been any explosions yet!"

Newkirk turned from the door and walked toward LeBeau. "Not yet…something wrong?" He could see by Louis's face it was a stupid question.

"Lutz went out to find Morgan and hasn't come back yet." Louis's urgent reply tore Carter away from the door.

"Holly cow! Didn't Morgan make it back?" Carter paced up behind Newkirk, as several of their bunkmates rolled over groaning at the noise.

"Oui, Morgan is back, but Lutz is still out!" Louis answered as some of the sleeping men were now struggling onto their elbows trying to figure out what was going on.

"He probably met some cute lil′ Fräulein and is just taking his time," Newkirk answered, trying to make light of a bad situation.

Louis gave Newkirk a disgusted look, and continued. "I think Kinch is going out to look for le Colonel or Lutz…he went to get Baker."

This was progressing way beyond Newkirk's comfort zone and turning to look at Carter, his voice took on a serious tone. "Carter, you stay here and watch for those explosions…"

"Heck, no…" Carter interrupted, but was stopped by Newkirk.

"Listen to me, Andrew; you're the only one who will know what blew up, the bridge or the factory. Even if there are two explosions, it would be good to know what blew up first. If the factory goes first, the Colonel will have more time to get back to camp before Hochstetter makes another move, but if the bridge goes first, Hochstetter will already be heading back toward the factory and even though there's a river between the Colonel and the Major, Lutz may be in danger."

"I'll watch with you, Carter." Mike, another inhabitant of Barracks Two, threw off his blanket and ran his hand through his hair as several others, now awake and aware there may be a problem, began to stir as well.

Newkirk glanced around at all the faces willing to help. Never good at thank yous,

he nodded his acknowledgement, adding, "Just stay quiet and ready, we don't know what we're dealing with yet."

"Oui, don't make any noise and alert the guards," Louis added.

"Come on, Louis," Newkirk headed for the ladder. "Let's see what Kinch is up to."

_**--Meanwhile back in the tunnel-- **_

"Tiger will radio us if Lutz gets back," Kinch finished telling Baker while he struggled back into his wet clothing.

"Roger," Baker answered, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Hold on there, mate, where are _you_ going?" Newkirk and LeBeau entered the radio room just as Kinch finished fastening his knife onto his belt.

Kinch, pausing long enough to look up, saw Newkirk's rebel face and knew the Englander was about to demand to go along. "No, Newkirk! I need you to stay here and take control if things go bad." Kinch checked his gun and slipped it into his belt.

Newkirk's voice still held its tone of seriousness as he asked, "What do you think's gone wrong?"

"Look, I'm just going on gut instinct here." Kinch's voice raised as his emotions spilled into his words. "I have nothing tangible, but the Colonel has taught me to play my hunches and I'm going out! Now, I need you two to stay here, keep an eye on Andrew and the rest of the camp. If things start falling apart…bail out!" He looked at his two comrades' stubborn faces, "I mean it! And I don't have time to stand here and argue." Kinch marched past them making his way back into the main tunnel. Looking back he added, "I'm counting on you, guys." Kinch left his sincerest look etched into Newkirk's and LeBeau's eyes as he turned and ran for the exit.

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"Where are you taking me?" Schiller looked out the car window. They had left Hammelburg and now were crossing the bridge heading deeper into the Bavarian forest.

"You haven't answered _my_ question. What do you know about the sabotage activity that took place tonight?" Hegel sat in the shadows at the far corner of the backseat. The black Gestapo cap, squarely on his head, provided his silhouette with an unmistakable air of evil.

"I saw the explosion," Schiller offered, not sure what direction Hegel was going_. Does he suspect me of being involved? Is that what this has all been about from the beginning?_ Schiller allowed his eyes to stray to the black shadow that was Hegel, and realized there was something deeper going on here.

Hegel leaned out of the shadows, revealing little more than a nose and mouth; his eyes remained masked under his cap's visor.

"Turn right, here."

Recognizing where they were headed, Hans did as he was commanded. _Why is he taking this man back to the factory?_

The car swerved as the order was carried out, and Schiller fought against gravity to keep his distance from Hegel.

The Major fastened his top button and began pulling on his gloves. "Pull over, driver."

Hans skidded the car to a stop.

"We're going to take a little walk, Herr Schiller." Reaching to unsnap his holster, he ordered, "_Get out!"_

Schiller's heart beat faster as he forced his shaking hand to open the car door. "Herr Major, I assure you I knew nothing about the sabotage activity tonight…"

"Start walking in that direction," Hegel interrupted, herding Schiller in the direction of the bogus encounter with the imaginary rabbit that occurred earlier that evening.

Schiller raised his arms, keeping them in plain sight, as he walked along trying to keep from tripping over rocks and twigs buried under the accumulating snow.

Hegel, dragging his feet through the snow, studied the trail he was leaving. Eventually a glint of metal caught his eye. _A shell._ _This is the spot. _"Stop." Kicking away more snow, more spent cartridges were revealed.

Schiller looked over his shoulder, wondering what the Gestapo Major was doing and saw a smile quickly pass over his lips.

Hegel looking up, seeing Schiller looking at him, pointed ahead and said, "Run."

"What?"

"I said, _run_!"

Schiller didn't ask a second time. He had heard about these kinds of orders and as much as he didn't want to…he ran.

It wasn't long before the second order rang out. "_Halt!"_

Schiller stopped, bent over, put his hands on his knees, and tried to breathe. He had expected to be shot in the back while running. This wasn't making any sense. "What…" he panted, "are we doing?"

"All right," Hegel began, ignoring the question and taking his gun off of Schiller for the first time since they had started walking, "I've brought you out here, where none of your neighbors can see us. Nobody will hear you except me. Now I want to know everything, and I do mean everything, you know about this sabotage activity going on around Hammelburg, and don't tell me you know nothing!"

Schiller swallowed, Hegel wasn't going to believe him unless he told him some lie about knowing who was doing this. And if he did tell him a lie to get himself off the hook, he would be condemning one of his neighbors to death. As despicable as it was, it was also enticing. Maybe he could buy himself enough time to get his family to safety, and keep his sons, already in uniform, from being reassigned. It was tempting…but…it wasn't going to happen. As scared as he was, he still could not stoop to doing something so vile… not again. With courage he didn't feel, he raised his head and answered, using the exact words Hegel ordered him not to use.

"I know _nothing_!"

It was as if the heavens, witnessing this act of courage, had sent a bolt of lightening down to punctuate its utterance and the ground suddenly heaved, while trees swayed sending an avalanche of snow cascading down on both saint and demon. The two men, squeezing their eyes shut against the fiery blast, were spun along the ground. When they finally stopped rolling, debris began to rain down on them forcing them to cover their heads with their arms for protection.

Hegel was on his feet first. Smiling, he said, "I believe you, Herr Schiller, but that's..." Pointing his gun at the still prostrate man, he fired, "…unfortunate for _you_!"

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	16. Chapter 16

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 16

A Matter of Life and Death

…_keep moving… _

"Mmm.," Hogan moaned as his foot slid off of a buried stone, shifting his weight to his injured side.

Lutz kept one eye on Hogan's face, trying to gauge his stamina, and watched him determinedly trying to blink his fatigue away. _How much longer can he last_? _And what do I do when he gives out? _It was a disturbing thought, one he wished he could avoid. His wish was at least temporarily answered in one thunderous blast, as the ground shook with a tumultuous shock wave, throwing both victim and rescuer to the ground.

Landing on his left side, Lutz saw Hogan's practically limp body land a few feet away. Scrambling on his hands and knees, he fell on top of the Colonel trying to protect him from the effects of the explosion as debris pummeled them.

"Ugh!" Hogan laid with his face buried in the snow by Lutz's shielding body, trying to move.

"Lay still," Lutz ordered.

Hogan stopped struggling, but not because Lutz _asked_ him to. With his injuries and the weight on top of him it was impossible to breathe let alone move. "Get off…me," Hogan mumbled, getting no response.

The barrage lightened and Lutz rose up, glancing in the direction of the blaze.

Hogan pushed himself onto his good side and panting between words, grumbled, "You…trying.…kill me?"

"Come on," Lutz grabbed Hogan under his arms and helped him to his knees. "Your calling card has been delivered and…" Lutz snapped his head around as a shot echoed through the woods.

Hogan followed Lutz's gaze and panted, "Somebody's…not…far away."

Not wasting time, Lutz pulled Hogan to his feet and, taking as much of the injured man's weight as he was allowed, again began stumbling through the steaming debris.

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_Re-rrrrr…Re-rrerrrr…Re-rrr_

"_Push_!"

The wheel spun its ear-piercing whine into the cold night air. Stepping forward, Hochstetter lunged into the faces of his men chanting orders.

"No! You have to rock it back and fourth!"

The staff car remained mired in the snow barely a mile from the bridge as Hochstetter, exasperated, stood and threw his hands into the air bellowing, "Is it ever going to stop…" The sentence was left unfinished as a sudden flash caught his eye and an explosion thundered across the sky answering his question.

Simultaneously, the high pitched whine of the spinning tire changed to a grinding grunt as the wheel caught jerking the car forward and rolling it back onto firmer ground. The victory went unnoticed, as Hochstetter concentrated on…_not _throwing up.

Staggering forward, he swallowed the bile threatening to erupt and stared at the burning sky. He was too late…again. The factory, although not real, was the biggest slap in the face of all, because it did not have to be destroyed. Its destruction was for no other reason than to further humiliate him. Anger began to build in the pit of his stomach as his indignation turned to a murderous rage. _When I get my hands on them, they will wish they had never been born!_

In desperation he ordered, "Get in the car!" Hochstetter catapulted into the front seat next to the driver, while Dresdner slipped the car into gear and…prayed. It lurched forward, forcing the three heavily armed soldiers accompanying Hochstetter to tumble into the moving car's backseat. The car began to pick up speed as it went slipping and sliding down the road. "We're only a mile from the bridge and the factory is less than a mile on the other side. They can't get far!"

_Please car, don't get stuck again. I don't think either of us would survive it! _ Dresdner warily ventured a glance at the red-faced Major sitting next to him and was relieved to see him staring out at the road, instead of at him. _Maybe Hochstetter will forget I let the car slip off the road now that he has…other things on his mind_. He began to think he might survive this night with his rank intact…maybe.

_If I can get the Major to the factory in time to catch the saboteurs it might redeem me!_ Dresdner determinedly griped the steering wheel with both hands as he plowed the car through the banks of snow, carefully accelerating and decelerating as he fought to keep it under control. Finally rounding the last curve, the bridge spanning the river separating them from the factory was directly in front of them…but only for a moment.

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Hegel holstered his gun. One problem was solved. Schiller would not be telling Major Hochstetter about their _arrangement_.

_It's nice of the Underground to give me an explanation for shooting you, _Hegel laughed. _I'll present you to Major Hochstetter as the saboteur. A dead saboteur is better than none at all! Yes, he will be glad to have you to dangle in front of Berlin. _

Shining his flashlight over the ground, Hegel looked around for his cap but instead began to see something much more interesting. _What is that? _Something was mixed in with the snow he and Schiller had been tossed through. Bending down to take a closer look he picked up a handful of the darkened slush and quickly identified it. He looked back at the body lying a few feet away. _This isn't Schiller's blood! _

Standing, he shined the flashlight down and kicked through the snow. _Did we shoot a deer when we fired into the forest earlier? _Continuing along the bloody trail, he stooped to examine a larger area of stained snow next to a downed tree. _No, a deer would bound or drop dead where it stood. This trail is continuous. It has to be a man! Maybe this will be better than any information Schiller could have given me. _

"Herr Major!" Hans called while running through the trees in the direction he had seen Hegel and Schiller disappear. Fear had told him to stay with the car, but duty demanded otherwise. His gun, cold in his hand, pointed ahead of him, as he nervously looked at every shadow he passed.

Hegel stood and turned at the sound of his name. "Here, Hans," he yelled slipping his flashlight into his left hand and shining it out like a beacon, guiding the young soldier to him. Hans followed the beam, unaware of the gun coming to bear on him as the Major, hidden behind the blinding light, smoothly and calmly raised his right hand.

_Crack!_

A snap of fire burst out and Hans fell at Hegel's feet.

Hegel smiled once again as he went to pick up his cap. Brushing it off, he slipped it onto his head. _Yes, this is working out better than I could have hoped_.

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_--Crack— _the echo spun its way through the forest.

"Was that…" Hogan began to ask, no longer sure of what was real and what wasn't. His mind was drifting between the world around him and a twilight world of nightmares flashing uncontrolled through his feverish brain.

Lutz cut him off before he could expend anymore of his strength needlessly. "Yes, another shot. It came from about the same direction as the last one." He turned his head back to look at Hogan, whom he still had his arm wrapped around. Exhaustion was dulling the American's eyes and sapping the color from his face. "You need to rest."

"Don't…tempt me." Hogan listened as another shot reverberated through the air. Taking in a shallow breath he shook his head, "I'm…holding you up… go…order you to…"

"Save your breath, Colonel; we're going together." Lutz pulled Hogan close, intending to usher him on, when he felt that same halting stance that, earlier that night, had sent him to the factory with a charge of dynamite.

This time Lutz was having none of it. Stepping directly in front of Hogan he grabbed him by the shoulders in desperation, causing Hogan to wince as his injured left arm took notice. "Listen to me you stubborn, bull-headed…Tiger's right…" Lutz faltered, censoring his words. He had promised Marie not to share her remarks with Hogan. Finally all attempts at diplomacy dropped and he blurted out, "I'm not leaving you! Now move your feet or…" The threat was abruptly cut off as the two were suddenly made aware they were not alone.

"Problems?" a steady voice asked, already knowing the answer.

Lutz spun around at the question, while attempting to draw his gun.

"Whoa, whoa," Kinch stepped out of the shadows, grabbing Hogan's other side. "It's me!" The statement was as much for Hogan as it was Lutz.

Lutz sagged with relief, "Kinch…how…"

The Sergeant quietly answered while carefully looking his commanding officer over. "Tiger radioed; she was worried when you didn't come back. It looks like…she had reason to be."

"Kinch?" Hogan tried to pull away, "Where are…Carter and…"

"They're all back at camp, Colonel," Kinch assured, not releasing his hold. "And that's where you're going."

Hogan's mind struggled to make sense out of the words being spoken around him. _Back at camp…how… can't … _"Leave me," he mumbled, and blinking tried to bring his world back into focus, until finally, closing his eyes, he slumped into Kinch's shoulder.

"Colonel?" Kinch whispered, as he pressed his fingers into Hogan's neck and held his breath until a pulse beat under his anxious fingers.

"I'm surprised he made it this far," Lutz said, offering Kinch his observations. "He took a couple of hits. I don't think he's carrying any bullets in him, but he's lost a fair amount of blood and may have a cracked a rib."

Not expecting a medical history, Kinch gave Lutz a brief look of surprise before locking his arm around Hogan's injured side, forcing a moan out of his commanding officer.

"My brother's a doctor," Lutz said in explanation. Stepping to Hogan's right, he placed the Colonel's arm over his shoulder to help support him.

"I know this hurts, Colonel, but we don't have time to make a stretcher, we have to pick up our pace." Looking at Hogan's closed eyes, Kinch doubted his words were heard, until two willful brown eyes fluttered open again and a barely audible, "…dis…obeying…_Private_," slipped out.

Staring past Hogan to Kinch, Lutz commented, "This is what I've been dealing with." And then immediately asked, "Did you hear those three shots?"

Kinch nodded while stepping forward. "Yeah, let's go."

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_Ring…ring…ring! Ring…ring…ring…ring…_

Klink threw back the covers, flicking on the light and grabbing his monocle as he swept the clock off his night stand. _Twelve-thirty?_ _At night? _

Rubbing his eyes, he looked out the window at the darkness, confirming the time was indeed twenty-four thirty and threw the clock down on the bed. _Now what?_

Klink slipped his feet into his slippers, while cursing under his breath. _Hogan's probably figured out that all the patrols in the area would have been drawn to the sabotage activity, leaving the woods unguarded around the camp and has organized an escape! _

Working himself up into a lather, he grabbed his robe and again thundered out onto his porch yelling. "Schuuultz!"

Langenscheidt, still marching his post, interceded. "Herr Kommandant, it's more sabotage activity. Only this time it is over there!" The Corporal pointed to the north of Hammelburg.

"Huh? More sabotage…" Klink looked off in the direction Langenscheidt pointed and then back at the site of the earlier explosion. The sky was cloudy with smoke.

_Tat—tat—tat—tat—tat, Tat—tat—tat_

Klink spun around looking into the compound in the direction of the gun fire. "Schuuuuuultz, what's happening? Schuuuuultz!"

Klink bounded off the porch in route to find his missing Sergeant, and ran into him as he rounded the corner.

"Schultz, what are the guards shooting at?" Klink stiffened. "Are the prisoners trying to escape?"

Shaking his head no, Shultz began his explanation, "Herr Kommandant, it is just, well, some of the guards are a little nervous…with all of these explosions…and…"

"And what? Schultz, spit it out, I haven't got all night!" Klink grumbled.

"They are shooting at shadows, Herr Kommandant," Schultz finally concluded.

"Then there is no escape?" Klink asked.

"Nein, Herr Kommandant," Schultz answered.

A momentary show of relief passed between the two men, before Klink resumed giving orders. "Well then tell them to stop shooting, before they shoot each other! I don't have enough guards as it is!"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz turned around and began shouting as he walked back across the compound, "Stop shooting, dummkopfs, before you shoot each other! The Kommandant doesn't have enough guards as it is!"

Klink shuddered, "Schuuuultz! You idiot don't go around shouting that, you'll give the prisoners ideas!"

Standing in his eagle stance with his hands behind his back, Klink scrutinized the compound, watching as the guards lowered their guns and assumed a more relaxed posture. Confident his guards were again in control of themselves, he looked again at the fire lighting up the horizon.

_That blast could very well be the factory. _Klink's shoulders slumped as he realized he would probably be getting a visit from Major Hochstetter in the morning, demanding to know where Colonel Hogan was tonight. Looking at Barracks Two he started walking towards it. _I could put Hogan in the cooler for the rest of the night, maybe that would shut Hochstetter up_.

Then stopping, he decided, _No, knowing Hochstetter, he would say it was because I thought Hogan capable of performing tonight's sabotage activity. _ _It's a no win situation. Hochstetter will think what he wants to think no matter what I do. And if I lock Hogan up for no reason, I will have him blabbing in my ears about the Geneva Convention and threatening to file a complaint with the Red Cross!_

Pulling his robe tighter around himself, he spun around and headed back inside.

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"Marie?"

Tiger turned from the attic window, wide eyed.

"Oh, Gustoff, you startled me." Her shock faded and a relieved smile took its place.

"What are you doing up here?" Gustoff shuffled across the attic, his red-plaid flannel robe, dusting the floor as he went.

Tiger didn't share the problems of command with Gustoff. That was her burden to bear as an Underground leader, and the less he knew, the less he could tell if he was taken in for questioning. But it was hard to keep things from someone you lived in such close proximity with. She wondered how Colonel Hogan did it.

Still smiling she said, "I couldn't sleep. I sometimes come up here to think." She looked around finding comfort in all the warm memories buried away in the attack. It was true. She did sometimes come up to the attic to think. Especially when she was scared, but tonight she was staying close to the radio…praying for good news.

"Ja, I find comfort up here in my past, too. But this is my past. You should be looking to _your_ _future_." Gustoff looked back at Marie. "But…I am glad to share my past with you until that day comes." The old man smiled with understanding and began to turn to go.

"Oh, I almost forgot why I came up here. Morgan is downstairs with his mother. He's acting peculiar. Nothing was said in front of Mrs. Schiller that would make her suspect anything unusual is going on here. But I sense something is wrong and Morgan doesn't know what to do."

"I wonder if he and his father had a fight. Maybe Mrs. Schiller is trying to get Morgan to go back home." _Oh, I don't have time to deal with this right now_!

Tiger looked longingly at the radio and then shifted her thoughts from herself to Morgan and, brushing her fears aside, steeled herself to deal with whatever problem waited for her downstairs.


	17. Chapter 17

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 17

Strike Three

Carter leaned his head against the door frame as he opened the door a crack and peered out.

_Come on, Colonel. Either blow up the bridge or… _Turning, he looked wistfully at the tunnel entrance. …_come back to camp. _Seeking to reassure himself, his eyes wandered to Hogan's door and lingered there while he imagined his CO's commanding presence on the other side.

_Everything's going to be all right, _Carter told himself, reassuringly. _So far the Colonel's plan has gone just like he said. Newkirk and I bombed the tracks…Kinch and LeBeau cut the phone lines, and the Colonel… _Carter paused and turning back to his post, finished …_blows up the factory. _

Carter felt the eyes of the other men of Barracks Two studying him. He was in a pivotal position to either calm or panic them by his actions, and he shivered with the realization and the responsibility of that thought.

_I sure wish the Colonel would hurry and get back._ Carter momentarily closed his eyes in prayer. When he opened them the silence of the night again greeted him making him feel very much alone.

_But he's **not** back. _Clinching his jaw in determination, he decided, _and I've got to do something to reassure everyone. _

Expanding his chest with air, Sergeant Andrew Carter turned to face the men behind him.

"He'll be all right…" His rapid fire dialog erupted, cutting through the uncomfortable silence in the common room. "…The Colonel always makes it back…Even when you think he can't, he does…Why, one time I saw him make it back during a thunderstorm with lightning so bright you could see like it was daytime…And another time, the whole woods was wall to wall Krauts and not one guard ever saw him… In fact, I'll bet…"

Newkirk would have been timing Carter had he been present. The Englander had named Carter's predilection for nervously talking nonstop like this, _his mutterings. _ Not surprisingly, he also jokingly claimed he could measure the height of the young American's anxiety by how long he could mutter on a single breath.

Carter might have broken his own record this time, if he hadn't been so loudly interrupted by…

_KA-BOOOM! _

Spinning back around, he opened the door and cried out, "_There it is!" _ The yellow ball of fire flickered in the night sky.

"See!" Carter proclaimed, smiling like a Cheshire cat and stepping one foot outside to get a better view. "I told you…"

_Tat—tat—tat—tat—tat. _

"Carter!" Mike called, pulling the exuberant Sergeant back inside and slamming the door closed.

_Tat—tat—tat. _

Snow and dirt peppered the building as bullets embedded themselves in a line outside the entrance.

Unfazed and high on adrenalin, Carter ran to the tunnel opening and leaned over the lower bunk calling, _"Hey you guys! The factory just went!" _

Within seconds two heads popped into view.

LeBeau looked up smiling, and shouted back. "Le Colonel made it!"

Not yet ready to give in to hope, Newkirk pulled the cigarette from his lips and asked, "Are you _sure_ it was the factory, Andrew?"

"You're the one who said Carter was the only one who would know for sure what blew up!" Louis huffed.

"I just want to be sure, Louis. You know how excited Carter gets!" Newkirk threw the butt of his cigarette down and ground it into the dirt.

LeBeau's hands landed on his hips. "Pessimist!"

"All I'm saying is anyone can make a mistake!" Grabbing the ladder, Newkirk headed upstairs to take a look for himself.

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Hegel pried the gun out of Hans's death-grip and put it in Schiller's hand. Then, placing his own finger over Schiller's, he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying blindly into the night, and setting the contrived scene. Letting Schiller's hand drop, he turned, looked at the proximity of Han's body, and nodded. _That should do it. Well, Major Hochstetter, you're about to get a belated Christmas present…and you won't even know who to thank. _

Brushing the snow off of his shoulders, and smoothing his coat back into proper military appearance, he marched back to where the car was parked and slipped behind the steering wheel where his driver had sat only a short time before. Without a second thought for the missing man, Hegel calmly backed the staff car down the narrow path until it joined with the larger access road. The only thing on his mind now was the cold execution of his plan. A plan designed to cover the trail of the real saboteurs and give himself time to find them for his own personal gains.

_Hochstetter will have to pass this way on his way to the destroyed factory. I will intercept him and show him the saboteur I shot, who unfortunately had gotten the drop on my driver. _Hegel smiled. Schiller's _murdering_ of Hans tied up another loose end. There would be no one to inform Hochstetter that Hegel had brought Schiller to the factory and that Hammelburg's baker was not the saboteur.

Hegel smirked as he checked his watch, and mentally gauged the time that had elapsed since the factory blew up. _Allowing for the snow…Hochstetter should be arriving at any minute. _ He looked down at the flask of coffee Hans had brought along to stave off the cold and poured himself a cup as he waited.

_I will enjoy putting you in your place when I break up this Underground that has been dancing rings around you, Hochstetter._ _And if it is as you say, and this "Papa Bear" **is** the American Colonel, I will gain great fame by indulging in the added pleasure of killing him and exposing his organization—in that order. I may even get a promotion out of it. _Hegel rolled that thought over in his mind. _Oberst Hegel? Yes… _he smiled, _it has a nice ring to it! _

_KA-BOOOM_ !

The bridge burst into splinters, as the final explosion of the evening registered in Hegel's ears. However, it was not the explosion that captured Hegel's full attention; it was the violent shaking of the car and his head slamming into the driver's side window.

As the car rocked to a stop, Hegel, dazed, reached his hand up and felt the warm liquid rolling down the side of his face. _What is…? _he began to question as he pulled his hand away and looked at the blood on his fingers. Dragging his thumb across them, he smeared the blood onto his palm as he made a fist and looked out the front of the car at the burning debris trailing through the night sky.

His stare turned cold. Up until now, finding this Underground unit had been about besting Hochstetter. But now, with the spilling of _his own_ blood…it was _personal_! Papa Bear's death had just gone up a notch on his list of priorities.

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Hogan shivered in the grip of the men who were trying to get him back to Stalag 13. His mind was drifting between rational and irrational disjointed thoughts.

_Doesn't…make sense…why didn't they take me…trap…_ _where are my men? _Perspiration glistened on his forehead. _Cold… I'm so …_Looking down, he thought he could make out… "Water?" Hogan began but his question ended in a very audible groan as the effort of talking pulled at torn muscles forcing him to lean toward his injured left side.

"Easy Colonel," Kinch whispered, hating that he had to delay getting the Colonel back to camp. But with command comes responsibility, and the Colonel would have his hide if he jeopardized the operation and the men back at Stalag 13. "Yes, sir, we're walking in the river's edge to make it difficult for the dogs to track us. It'll just be a little longer, and then we'll head out through the woods and go home." Kinch could see Hogan's jaw muscles ripple as Hogan wrestled with the pain of staying on his feet, and Kinch prayed he would have the pleasure of the bawling out he would get when this was all over. "Hang in there, sir."

The words echoed in Hogan's head, making it difficult to decipher their meaning. Finally the last echo registered. But before he could nod his dogged intention to do just that, the forest shook for the third time with a resounding...

_KA-BOOOM_ !

Kinch reflexively hunched over pulling Hogan and Lutz with him.

"Ugh!" Hogan's legs buckled as the sudden move coupled with the reverberation of the blast ripped through him, burning already raw nerve endings and sending a firestorm of pain through the bullet wound in his side.

Lutz stumbled but quickly found his footing in time to support the added weight of Hogan's body. "What was that?"

Kinch looked over his shoulder, "The bridge. I just wish I knew which side of the river Hochstetter's on." _And if he fired those shots we heard_ _earlier._

"The bridge? Did you set the bridge to explode?" Lutz asked, as he tried to make sense out of the chaos around him.

"Yeah; plan B," Kinch answered. "Draw Hochstetter away…and keep him from getting back.

Stirred by the words he was hearing, Hogan fought to clear his mind and untangle his confusion. _Why did Hochstetter leave me in the woods… why didn't he kill me…or take me in for questioning?_ He needed to tell Kinch about the inconsistency.

Biting his lip, Hogan struggled to take back some of his own weight and attempted to make himself understood. "…doesn't make…sense."

"Take it easy, Colonel; you've been shot," Kinch answered, trying to ease Hogan's anxiety and apparent confusion. "Just hold…"

"I…know…I've… been shot," Hogan panted, frustrated that he couldn't make them understand his meaning. He had to warn them that something wasn't right. But they weren't getting it.

"Listen…" The words "_to me"_ did not make it onto his lips before his strength gave outand his mind slipped back into the pain-free darkness he had been fighting.

Kinch watched Hogan's head drop. "He's rambling. We've got to hurry and get him back to camp." Shifting Hogan's weight closer, he stepped up on the river bank. "Come on, we'll have to hope we've blind-ended our trail enough. Let's head home."

Lutz pulled Hogan's right arm around his neck and straightened, bringing the Colonel's weight onto his shoulders. "I'm with you; lead the way."

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Newkirk looked through the slightly opened door.

"Careful, the guards are jumpy. They fired at Carter a minute ago," Mike warned.

"I don't doubt it. They're all walking around bug-eyed," Newkirk answered. "Wait, there's Klink…oh, oh, he's coming this way!" Newkirk spun away from the door trying to think of what to do.

LeBeau pushed his way to the door panicked. "Now what?" he asked. "Wait…he's going back toward his quarters."

Newkirk leapt for the door and seeing Klink's retreating form, sighed. "That was close." Closing the door, he added, "The Colonel should be back soon. Hopefully Klink will stay away until then."

The pause in the conversation was interrupted by sporadic gunfire from the back of the camp. Newkirk walked to the shuttered window to peek out.

"See anything?" Carter asked walking up behind Newkirk.

"Shh." Newkirk watched as Schultz questioned some of the guards, shook his head and then disappeared between the barracks. "Looks like it's just guards shooting at shadows. Schultz doesn't seem too concerned."

Carter nodded, "Well as long as it's only shadows." Suddenly, he had a second thought. "Boy, I hope Kinch gets back before the Colonel. He'll be in big trouble if he doesn't."

Louis sat down at the table in the common room. "Don't worry about Kinch. He will have seen the explosion and he'll head back."

Dealing with his anxiety in his well established pattern, Carter changed the subject again. "So where do you think Hochstetter was when the factory blew up?"

"Ranting and raving at the first explosion!" Newkirk answered, sitting down next to Louis. "And now…he'll be on his way back to the factory."

"Oui," Louis smiled. "Maybe he'll be on the bridge when it blows up."

"Hey, wouldn't that be great." Carter leaned against the bunk closest to the door. "No more Hochstetter barging in here demanding roll calls in the middle of the night."

"Oui, and no more midnight interrogations for Colonel Hogan."

Newkirk looked from LeBeau to Hogan's door and interjected his own reality. "Don't get carried away, mate. There are plenty more bad guys out there to take Hochstetter's place."

_KA-BOOOM_!

Carter dashed for the door. "There goes the bridge!"

More gunfire echoed throughout the compound.

"Klink better take those guns away from the guards before they shoot somebody," Louis grumbled.

Newkirk stood, "I'm going back downstairs. Kinch's and the Colonel's return may be close and one of us had better be ready to greet the Colonel and keep him from wondering where Kinch is at."

Louis stood to follow and looked back to see if Carter was coming. Grabbing Newkirk's arm, Louis nodded toward their demolitions man who once again had his face buried in the doorway watching the distant fires burn.

"Carter!" Newkirk grumbled, rolling his eyes, "Leave off looking at those bloody explosions, and get away from the door before those ruddy Goons start shooting at you and hit me instead."

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After the third explosion of the evening had pulled him back outside, Klink again ordered Schultz to put a stop to the guards' untargeted shooting before marching back inside. Now, closing the door to his quarters, he shivered and pulled his thoroughly wet bathrobe off, along with his soggy house-shoes.

_What a night! _

Pouring himself a glass of schnapps, he downed it in one gulp and poured himself another.

_No one understands what I have to put up with! _

Klink closed his eyes and grimaced as more gunfire echoed outside. There was no point in going back to bed. Dragging a dinning room chair over to the stove, he draped his robe over its back and leaned his limp house-shoes against the two legs closest to the heat.

_Maybe the Underground will stop blowing things up long enough for my clothes to dry, _he thought sarcastically.

Grabbing a book, he plopped down in the overstuffed chair next to the window that overlooked the compound and, resting his feet on the ottoman, settled in for what he knew would continue to be a long night…followed by what promised to be an even longer morning.

Hochstetter was sure to show up. And he was sure to be in rare form with three acts of sabotage occurring all in one night.

_Hogan had better keep his mouth shut and not goad Hochstetter. _Klink sighed. _I have about as much chance of that happening as…as…_

More gunfire sounded from outside…_as my guards **not** shooting each other tonight. _

Klink took a sip of his schnapps. _ Maybe I should call General Burkhalter now, before Hochstetter threatens to drag Hogan to _ _Berlin__… _Klink shook his head. _What am I thinking? There will be no threat…Hochstetter will have Hogan in irons before Hogan can finish his first cutting remark. _

Klink stood to make the call and froze. He frowned at the phone. _But if I wake General Burkhalter in the middle of the night…I'm liable to end up on the Russian front! _

He slowly sat back down.

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	18. Chapter 18

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 18

Out of the Forest—But—Not Out of the Woods

Dresdner clung to the wheel of the fishtailing car as the explosion blasted past. Gradually regaining control, he pressed down on the accelerator, ramming and dodging burning debris.

"What are you doing?" Hochstetter demanded, jamming one hand against the roof of the car and wedging the other against the door in a futile attempt to remain in his seat.

"I'm going to get you across the river, Herr Major. There's another bridge two miles down the road."

There was no way Dresdner was not getting Hochstetter to the factory. Failure to do so would definitely spell his demise in the Gestapo. But if he could get the Major to the other side of the river, there was still an outside chance they could catch the saboteurs.

Besides, the alternative was to stop and listen to Hochstetter bellow, and that was not the least bit appealing to Dresdner. At least slipping and sliding over the snow covered roads was keeping the Major quiet…relatively. The occasional yelp of pain as the Major was thrown about inside the car…Dresdner easily tolerated.

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Climbing out of his car, Hegel walked closer to where a bridge once spanned the river. The heat from the explosion and the resulting fire felt good and he stood for a moment, absorbing its warmth and looking at the expanse of twisted steel and burning wood.

_I have to admit, there will be a certain amount of satisfaction in catching the man capable of orchestrating this much destruction in one night._

Hegel pulled the kerchief away from his head and scrutinized the amount of blood he had lost.

_This "Papa Bear" is giving me a headache in more ways than one, and he has certainly delayed my plans to present Hochstetter with a dead saboteur. _

Looking down the snow laden road, Hegel dabbed at his head one more time before placing the kerchief back in his coat pocket. _Perhaps this unknown saboteur has done me a favor. The Major will have to detour down the road to the next bridge and that could take an hour in this snow…which gives me time to do a little looking around. Somebody lost a fair amount of blood; they should be easy to track. _

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Down in the tunnels below Stalag 13, three restless men paced in the darkness. All three occasionally glanced up the black hole leading to the tree stump and wondered who would make it back first. They were all praying it would be Kinch. No one wanted to play the dangerous game of hiding Kinch's whereabouts from the Colonel. The odds of being caught were slightly less than certain and guaranteed to be…_rewarded._ A month of KP may give you dish pan hands, but latrine duty left a smell in your nose you would never forget.

"What is taking Kinch so bleeding long?" Newkirk griped, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"Well, at least the Colonel hasn't beaten Kinch back yet," Carter cheerfully pointed out.

Newkirk lit his cigarette. "Yes, Carter, but is that a good thing or a bad thing? Suppose…"

"Shh," Louis grabbed the ladder. "The trap door is opening, someone is coming." He cautiously began climbing up to see who it was.

Both Newkirk and Carter impatiently watched and waited, straining there ears to decipher the voices wafting down to them. Soon Louis's feet reappeared out of the darkness.

"Is it Kinch?" Carter asked.

Before LeBeau had time to say anything, Newkirk demanded, "Blimey, LeBeau, give out. Who is it?"

Newkirk's anxiety gave way to worry when the Frenchman stepped off the ladder and turned ashen faced to answer. "It's Kinch, but…"

LeBeau barely got this much out before Carter cut in. "I told you he'd…"

"Quiet!" Louis's raised voice stopped Carter cold. "He's got the Colonel with him…"

Anticipating a reprimand from Colonel Hogan, Newkirk threw his cigarette down, "Well, it's over then isn't it…"

Annoyed at being interrupted again, Louis paced back to the ladder and looked up the dark hole, before spinning back to face Newkirk and Carter. "Would you two shut up and let me finish. Mon Colonel is hurt!"

"What do you mean he's…?" Newkirk paused when he saw Kinch struggling out of the shaft in the ceiling.

Without the narrow tube like structure to help corral the Colonel, Kinch struggled to maintain his grip on his semiconscious commanding officer.

"Help me!' Kinch called as three pairs of hands were already reaching to lower the suddenly limp body to the floor.

Newkirk took his share of Hogan's weight and asked, "What happened, Kinch?" Seeing the Colonel's blood encrusted hands and the hole in his jacket. Newkirk didn't wait for a response. He began unzipping Hogan's bloody coat to see for himself.

"I'm not sure," Lutz answered, startling the three men as he too, descended the ladder.

"Lutz! Boy are we glad to see you. Carter called. "We were worried about you."

"Yeah, I found him already helping the Colonel," Kinch answered as he knelt down beside Newkirk.

Louis diverted his eyes away from the bloody mess on Hogan's chest, and migrated toward Lutz, demanding, "You must know something? You were obviously out there with him."

Lutz stepped closer to where Hogan was being inspected by Newkirk, and was glad to see the makeshift bandage, he had applied, was still doing its job.

"Well?" Louis prodded.

Lutz tugged his eyes away from Hogan and stared at LeBeau. "I went to look for Morgan and had just made it to the woods surrounding the factory, when I heard what sounded like a gun battle..." His eyes drifted back to Newkirk, and he abruptly stopped his story. "Don't take that bandage off, Newkirk! It's adding pressure to stop the bleeding."

Newkirk stopped pulling at the bloody mess and laid a comforting hand on Hogan's chest before turning to look at Lutz. "The gov'nor's …" Newkirk's voice faltered and he cleared his throat swallowing his emotions. "Tell us what you know."

"The shooting didn't last long but, before I could decide what to do, there was an explosion on the other side of Hammelburg..."

"That was us!" Carter offered.

"Shh, Carter!" LeBeau waved his hand in Carter's general direction without taking his eyes off of Lutz. "Go on."

"After that several trucks left the area and I decided to go and see if I could find out what the shooting was about."

Kinch nodded, looking from Lutz to Hogan. "The Colonel's plan was working."

Louis frowned and commented, "_Something_ didn't work!"

This time it was Lutz's turn to nod. "I found blood. And then, I found the Colonel at the clearing surrounding the factory." Lutz watched as Kinch, kneeling at Hogan's head, carefully raised the Colonel's shoulders to look at his back.

"He's got a wound on his upper shoulder as well as his upper left arm," Kinch informed the group.

"He's lost quite a bit of blood," Lutz concluded.

"I'll say he has," Carter touched Hogan's hand. "He's cold."

Hogan jerked and everyone froze.

"Mmm." Consciousness returned in a flurry of confusion. _Where?_ His right hand moved to his side, as a spasm of pain made him hold his breath. Opening his eyes he blinked trying to focus on his surroundings. He was down that meant he was vulnerable and he struggled to stand as voices filtered through the haze.

"Lay still, Colonel," Kinch rested his hand on Hogan's shoulder and Hogan, grimacing, dropped back into Kinch's lap. Gritting his teeth against the flash of heat shooting down his injured arm, he inhaled with a shudder. Gradually the pain eased and he was able to focus his eyes on a face.

"Carter?"

"Yes…sir." Carter hesitantly answered. Surprised to hear Hogan speak, he stared intently at his commanding officer.

"Everybody—_Ugh_—"The question cost Hogan another stab of agony forcing him to pull his left knee up, seeking relief. "…all…right?"

"Don't talk, gov'nor, everyone's all right except you," Newkirk assured.

"Oui, Colonel, you've been shot. Just lie still," LeBeau answered trying to see beyond the blood.

Hogan's eyes went to LeBeau standing at his feet, and he began to settle down as he recognized his surroundings. _Tunnel…good… _Slowly, some of LeBeau's words began to filter through.

_Shot? Yes…I remember… shield the dynamite…bullets…my arm…blood… but…why didn't…they finish me? _"Hoch…stet…ter…" Hogan rasped, again trying to sit up. The attempt to tell them something was seriously wrong, ended in a groan. Hogan vainly fought the return to unconsciousness as his right hand and left leg slowly relaxed, limply slidding back to the tunnel floor.

Catching Hogan's shoulders, Kinch rested the Colonel's head on his arm and felt for a pulse. "Go get Wilson, Carter,"

"No wait!" Newkirk turned to face Kinch. "We may not have a lot of time before Klink or Hochstetter come around and there's no way we're going to be able to explain this!"

LeBeau angrily pushed off the ladder where he had retreated to give support to his weak knees. "We'll deal with them later; we have to take care of Le Colonel now. Go Carter!"

"Wait a minute!" Newkirk protested. "There may be a way to do this under Klink's nose."

"Talk," Kinch demanded.

Newkirk looked at Carter, "Go get the Colonel's shirt."

Carter looked to Kinch for direction. Kinch nodded and Carter disappeared.

Turning back to Kinch, Newkirk continued, "The guards have been getting more jumpy with each explosion. Being short manned, they've been shooting at everything and nothing."

"Here it is," Carter interrupted, returning with the shirt.

Newkirk pointed, "Hang it from that rafter." Reaching across Hogan, he took Kinch's gun from his belt. "I think we can make use of the guards' fears."

Looking once more at the hole in Hogan's blood soaked shirt Newkirk stood, took aim, and fired, putting a bullet hole in Hogan's uniform shirt.

"Holy cow, what'd you do that for. The Colonel's gonna…"

"Look like he's been shot by a stray bullet," Kinch finished.

"Oui, but how?" LeBeau asked.

"By the gunfire you're going to draw," Newkirk explained.

"_I'm_ going to draw?" LeBeau questioned. "How am I going to do that?"

"Louis, I have all the faith in the world in you. You'll think of something," Newkirk assured.

Carter, catching up with the quick turn of events, grabbed Hogan's uniform shirt and passed it to Newkirk. "All right, then, let's do it."

Kinch Newkirk and Lutz began easing Hogan out of his black saboteur's jacket while Lutz warned everyone. "When we take this pressure bandage off and remove the Colonel's shirt, it's going to disturb what clotting has taken place and he's going to start bleeding again."

"Mmm," Hogan moaned in protest to the movement being inflicted on him, drawing sympathetic stares from his tormenters.

"The fresh bleeding will make it look like he was just shot," Kinch confirmed, thinking out loud. He continued helping to get Hogan's black shirt off and watched as the bleeding began.

Another groan echoed out, but this time it was LeBeau, who had drifted back to the ladder and was fighting his own battle with consciousness.

Kinch glanced at Louis and then back to the business at hand. "But I'm not thrilled about the Colonel loosing more blood."

"Oui, me neither."

Newkirk's patience, always in short supply, was gone. "The alternative is trying to explain this to Klink and ultimately Hochstetter. And if that happens, the Colonel will definitely loose what little blood he has left!"

"Newkirk's right. It's our…" Kinch paused, as they slipped Hogan's shirt on. "It's the _Colonel's_ only chance."

Carter stared at the blood soaking through the Colonel's shirt. "Boy, it's a good thing we didn't bring Wilson down here, he'd put a stop to this whole thing," Carter warned.

Kinch, looking at the worried faces on the men around him, assumed the role the Colonel had assigned him, _second_ _in command_. "Andrew stop blathering and help get the Colonel's pants on while I go get changed. And Louis, you go upstairs and figure out how to draw some gunfire without getting anybody killed. We've got to do this fast…" Kinch looked down at Hogan, "…before we lose him."

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Hegel had lost the trail at the riverbank and had made the decision to follow the river in the direction of Stalag 13. The wind had picked up and he had about given up on being able to pick the trail up again, when he thought he could barely make out an indentation in the snow. _Am I becoming Hochstetter? _

Hegel wondered if it was really a partially obscure trail he was following or, if he was just deluding himself into seeing what he wanted to see. He continued up the steep embankment and followed what he hoped _wasn't_ a figment of his imagination.

Gradually, the search light from the prison camp could be seen in the distance. Stopping, he looked back in the direction he had come. His own footprints now obliterated any trace of what he thought he was following. And the trail ahead had been filled in by blowing and drifting snow. Anything from here on out could only be speculation.

_Maybe there is something to Hochstetter beliefs besides paranoia. _Hegel looked at his watch. _I won't learn any more tonight, but it certainly warrants further investigation._ Turning he began the trek back as he pieced together the information he had uncovered. _I'm almost certain that wasn't an animal that was shot…almost. I've got to get somebody inside that prison camp to ferret out some information. Maybe I can bribe one of Klink's guards to…no if Klink found out…I'd have to get rid of the guard and Klink before Klink could tell General Burkhalter, who would start an investigation that would involve Hochstetter and…that would be messy. No…I need my own man. One I can transfer in and out again before anybody is the wiser. _Hegel smiled, as an idea came to him, _Yes, that's what I need. _

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	19. Chapter 19

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

_Chapter 19_

The Dead and the Dying.

Kinch held on until he was sure Hogan was supported and clear of the rail before stepping down a few rungs on the ladder and calling to Lutz.

"We'll get back to you as soon as we can!" Without waiting for an answer, Kinch disappeared back up the ladder and the bunk closed, sealing Lutz into the underground chambers.

It was the first chance Lutz had had to look at himself. His hands and his clothes were smeared in the Colonel's blood and he shivered as the evening's ordeal began to catch up with him. He didn't want to have to report Colonel Hogan's death to Tiger. Taking in a deep breath, he slowly let it out and looking at the ceiling above him, he prayed, _Hang on a little longer, Colonel._

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_Tat tat tat. Tat tat tat tat tat_.

Blaring sirens assaulted Klink's ears awakening him with a start, and sent cold chills running down his back. Still sitting in his reading chair, he slid his feet off the ottoman, dropping the book he had been reading to the floor, where he angrily kicked it aside as he leaned closer to the window. The frosted glass barely allowed him to make out the guard leaning out of the tower, pointing and yelling.

_What is he pointing at…Barracks Three? _

Still drowsy, Klink vainly tried to wipe the glass clearer with his hand.

_Barracks Three or…Barracks Two…both are in that general direction. _

Klink paled as one thought hit him like a bucket of cold water. He reached for his boots as the yelling began to escalate outside.

_So help me, if this has anything to do with… _

Klink charged for the door and, grabbing his coat, ran outside. The front of his quarters appeared deserted.

_Where's Langenscheidt? _

Langenscheidt had left his post. It would take a dire emergency to pull the Corporal away from his post. Klink's anger deepened as he stormed down the steps and around the corner into the bustling compound.

_It **is** Barracks Two! That's it! Hogan is spending the rest of the night and…the next five days in the cooler. I warned him! _

Too angry to even button his coat, he wrapped his arms around himself and plowed ahead. Prisoners and guards were gathering outside Barracks two, jostling for position to see inside, when they suddenly began to step back.

"Kommandaaant, Kommandaaaaant!" Schultz's urgent voice cut through the cold night as he pushed his way out of the gathering throng of men and hurried toward Klink. "Herr Kommandant," Schultz puffed. "It's terrrrible. Colonel Hogan…"

"Hogan!" Klink swore as he stormed past Schultz to face what he assumed was his unruly senior prisoner of war. "Schultz, take Colonel Hogan to the cooler. He's on bread and water for the next five…" Ready to lower the boom, Klink stepped inside Barracks Two and froze.

"Donnerwetter!"

Hogan's men looked up only briefly at Klink before turning their attention back to containing the bleeding from the hole in Hogan's side.

"Somebody get a blanket!" Newkirk barely finished his sentence before four blankets were thrust at him and he quickly spread two over Hogan's shivering body.

"Herr Kommandant, there has been a terrible accident. Colonel Hogan has been shot," Schultz blurted as he caught up with Klink.

Klink looked briefly at Schultz, before turning to scan the room full of prisoners, wondering if he, too, was in danger. "Whaaaat? Who shot him?"

Schultz began explaining as he watched the prisoners doing their best to care for their commanding officer. "There was a commotion and the tower guards fired and…well, the bullet must have hit something and ricocheted!"

Before Klink could comment, Mike McLaughlin, who had been sleeping soundly, staggered over from his corner bunk. Stepping around Schultz and the Kommandant, he stopped, stunned. "What happened?"

LeBeau had no choice, but to lie to Mike. "Le Colonel was hit by a stray bullet."

Mike spun on Klink, shouting, "It was only a matter of time before _somebody_ got hit with your guards firing off their guns every time the wind howled! It should have been one of _your_ men that were shot!" Normally somewhat docile, Mike had a temper that, once lit, drove him beyond any reasonable thinking.

Momentarily stunned, Klink stood wide-eyed with his mouth agape before recovering and shaking his fist at McLaughlin. "I will not stand for your insolence!"

Kinch's throat tightened as he saw what was brewing. "_Mike_!" Kinch called, trying to prevent the situation from escalating.

"_My_ insolence?" Mike shouted, stepping closer to Klink.

"Wait a minute, mate!" Newkirk jumped up and laid his hand on Mike's shoulder, trying to stop him from going any further.

But it was too late. Mike jerked away from Newkirk's restraining hand. "Your _stupid_ guards shot the Colonel and _I'm_ insolent?"

Klink's initial shock turned back to anger and he fell back on his original plan, changing only the _target_ for his sentencing. "Schultz, have this man taken to the cooler!"

"The cooler, Herr Kommandant?"

"Schuuuultz!" Klink stomped his foot, glaring at his Sergeant.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." Schultz motioned to two of the surrounding guards, who flanked Mike and began moving him out the door.

"Any further outbursts and I'll send _all_ of you to the cooler!" Klink warned, glaring at the stunned men around him.

Dragging his feet, Mike practically bumped into Wilson, who was being ushered into Barracks Two by another guard. He shouted over his shoulder, "Hurry, Joe!"

"Mike? What…?" That was all Wilson was able to say before being hustled inside and coming face to face with Klink. "You sent for me, Kommandant?"

Still red faced, Klink looked at Wilson, confused.

"Herr Kommandant, I took the liberty of sending for the prisoners' medic," Schultz explained.

Still looking at Wilson, Klink stepped aside and pointed. "There… Colonel Hogan needs you. He's been shot."

Wilson had been rubbing the sleep off of his face, but he stopped abruptly as his eyes fell on the scene in front of him.

"What happened?" he asked, rushing past Schultz and Klink and kneeling beside Hogan.

"We were having a little disagreement inside the barracks about putting more wood on the stove…" Newkirk started, not daring to look Wilson in the eye.

"…and I guess we got a little loud," Carter added.

Looking up from where he was supporting the Colonel's head and shoulders, Kinch continued. "The Colonel came out to settle the disagreement and…"

LeBeau finished. "…I had already decided to put a stop to it. And I took the piece of wood they were fighting over and threw it outside." LeBeau folded his arms and stared at Klink before continuing. "I guess it alarmed the guards and…they shot at us. One of the bullets hit Colonel Hogan."

Wilson listened quietly as he surveyed the damage. Picking up Hogan's hand to take his pulse, he was surprised at the extreme coldness of the Colonel's skin. _All right there's more going on here than I'm being told. _Looking hard into Kinch's face he moved his hand to Hogan's neck and pressing his fingers against the artery, frowned.

"Let me see that, Carter." Wilson moved Carter's hand off of the bleeding wound where the young Sergeant had been applying pressure and the blood ran. Wilson quickly clamped his own hand into place, stopping the flow.

Wilson turned and looked at Klink. "I need to get him to the infirmary, Kommandant."

Klink looked at Schultz. "Schultz, have the guards move Colonel Hogan and get all the prisoners back in their barracks."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant! Gorman, Steiner," Schultz called and two more guards came forward. "Take Colonel Hogan to the camp hospital."

"Jawohl," Gorman saluted, before turning to run for a stretcher.

"The rest of you take the prisoners back to their barracks!" Schultz ordered.

Karl Langenscheidt knelt down beside Wilson and in heavily accented English asked, "Alive?"

Without looking up, Wilson nodded. "So far!"

This last sentence was said in anger. Wilson wasn't sure how the Colonel _really_ got shot, but he was sure his anger was justified, because either the guards shot him accidentally or something had occurred outside of camp that he had_ not _been told about

Kinch took one of the blankets being offered by the men in the barracks and placed it under Hogan's head as he gave Wilson an apologetic sideways glance. _Sorry, Joe, there wasn't time to fill you in. _

Klink looked again at his senior POW officer lying unmoving on the barracks floor. It was disquieting not hearing Hogan's protests over the sentencing of one of his men to the cooler, or his show of righteous indignation over being fired on by the tower guards, and it left Klink feeling…vulnerable. If something were to happen to Hogan…what would happen to him? Certainly, he and Hogan had their differences, but there was a balance being played out here. A delicate balance that had, thus far, kept both men alive. And if that were to change…

Looking around the room at the men assigned to Barracks Two, Klink thought about what they may have cost him and his anger flared. "All of you are confined to barracks until further notice."

"Confined to barracks? What for? We didn't do anything! Your bloody guards shot Colonel Hogan!" Newkirk shouted.

"If you hadn't been fighting among yourselves none of this would have happened. It's your fault your commanding officer is lying there."

_Our fault! Why as far as you know it was your men who shot the Colonel. _Newkirk's anger flared. "Why, you…"

"Easy Newkirk, it was an accident," Kinch answered, playing into Peter's theatrics.

The guard returned with the stretcher, breaking the tension as everyone's efforts went to moving the Colonel.

Keeping his hand over the hole in Hogan's side, Wilson continued applying pressure while Kinch, Newkirk and Carter followed his instructions, moving Hogan onto the stretcher.

The move provoked a moan.

"Mmmm." Hogan's right hand landed on top of Wilson's as his subconscious searched for relief.

"Easy, Colonel. Just stay with us," Wilson encouraged, as he looked at the guards and nodded, "Let's go."

Gorman and Steiner stood with the stretcher. Wilson, still applying pressure, watched Hogan.

"I need the other two medics, Kommandant, and I'll need one of the guards to gather some of the prisoners to donate blood. I can give him names."

Klink nodded. "Give the names to Langenscheidt."

Klink's eyes were locked on Hogan's still form as Langenscheidt took the names and ran ahead to gather the prisoners. He looked at Wilson's bloody hands and Hogan's pale face as the entourage passed by on their way to the camp hospital. _How could this have happened? What a wild unrelated chain of evens it took to lead up to this. Starting with Hochstetter taking my guards! _

"Kommandant," Kinch took a step toward Klink. "Kommandant…" Kinch repeated.

Klink had his back to Kinch watching Hogan, Wilson, and his guards disappear.

Kinch tried again. "Kommandant Klink!"

Klink turned abruptly. "What is it, Sergeant?"

"I'd like to go with Colonel Hogan, sir. To offer my support," Kinch watched as Schultz closed the barracks door, separating them from the events about to take place.

"You heard my orders! All prisoners confined to barracks!"

"Yes, sir…"

"Why would I let you go with Colonel Hogan? Are you not assigned to this barracks?"

"Yes, sir, but…"

"Request denied! Schultz, any man caught outside of this barracks is to be taken to solitary!"

Schultz reluctantly answered, "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."

"And you, Sergeant Kinchloe, have enough to keep you busy. As I understand it, you have been chosen by Colonel Hogan as second in command. Well…" Klink looked at the blood on the floor and his voice trailed off. Without finishing, he turned and left.

Schultz looked around at the soulful faces looking back at him. "I'm sorry. You boys stay inside. The Kommandant is in no mood to be disobeyed."

"He can't bloody well leave us here without telling us how the gov'nor's doing!" Newkirk walked toward the door and ran into LeBeau, who stepped to intercede.

Seeing the scowl on Newkirk's face, Carter spoke up. "Schultz will keep us informed, won't ya, Schultz?" Carter turned and looked hopefully at the big guard.

"Ja, I will. You boys be good and go to bed." Schultz sighed and opened the door. "At least make it _look_ like you've gone to bed."

"Night, Schultz," Carter called and was joined in goodnights from the other men.

Schultz raised his hand and waved and without turning around, exited.

"I guess now we wait," Newkirk complained walking to take a seat at the table.

"Poor Mike," LeBeau said, turning toward the stove.

Carter nodded. "I forgot how sound Mike sleeps. I should have shaken him, but things were happening so fast…"

"He sleeps with those ruddy earplugs, too!" Newkirk added.

"Oui, he's trying to block out the war, while he's sleeping. After being caught trying to escape from that other camp, it's the only escape attempt he'll ever try again." Louis understood Mikes thinking. He had seen many men change for various reasons during this war.

Kinch rubbed his face. He was exhausted, but sleep was not an option. "Yeah, one of us should probably try to get to him and explain. Can you do that, Newkirk? I'm going to have enough explaining to do to Wilson."

"Oui, Wilson, knew something wasn't right," LeBeau agreed.

"He did?" Carter asked. "I thought we pulled it off pretty well."

"He knew as soon as he touched the Colonel's hand that he didn't get that cold inside the barracks." Kinch shook his head. "I'm sure glad Lutz was there to help…"

"Lutz!" Everyone jumped at once and ran for the tunnel.

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Hochstetter watched as the two bodies were loaded into the back of the truck and then turned to look at Hegel.

"So you say when you realized your driver had left the shackles I had given him to carry, here at the factory, you came back to get them and that is when you saw someone running away?" Hochstetter asked, repeating the story Hegel had told him on his arrival.

"Jawohl, Major. It was sheer luck. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out so lucky for Hans. But at least that traitor didn't get away," Hegel boasted.

"Ja, ja," Hochstetter nodded, rubbing his chin as he thought through the story.

Hegel didn't like the thoughtful expression on Hochstetter's face and continued, "This should make Berlin happy."

Hochstetter dropped his hand and smiled. That was true. It would take the pressure off of him, now that he had caught one of the Underground saboteurs. Even if that saboteur was dead, at least now they had a lead. There would be more suspects to question as they rounded up the dead man's family and friends.

Hochstetter turned and began giving orders, "Everyone in the trucks! We are going into Hammelburg to round up some suspects!"

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"Schultz! Thank God. I can't make these two guards understand. Get in that cabinet and grab the vial of morphine and bring it and that tray over here." Wilson couldn't stop applying pressure on the bleeding until the other medics arrived to relieve him.

Schultz had stuck his head in only to gather his guards and see what news he could take back to Barracks Two, but ended up following Wilson's instructions and arrived at the gurney with the supplies.

"You're going to have to draw up a syringe of morphine for me. I can't take my hands off of the Colonel just yet," Wilson explained. He was surprised to see Schultz pick up a cotton ball, soak it in alcohol, and begin wiping off the vial and needle.

"Where did you learn to do that, Schultz?"

"This isn't my first war," Schultz answered.

Wilson would have asked more, but Hogan stirred with a groan and, opening his eyes, his right hand grabbed Wilson's arm and tried to push it away.

"Its okay, Colonel; it's only me, Joe. I know I'm causing you pain, but I've got to stop the bleeding." Wilson reached over with his other hand and pulled Hogan's hand away.

Hogan's eyes darted from the face in front of him to his surroundings. _Barracks?...no… _

He began to recognize the cots of the infirmary and the smell of…alcohol.

Schultz's face moved into Hogan's line of vision as the Sergeant held up a syringe and a spray of medicine shot out the end, clearing it of air.

_No morphine…not yet…Kinch…I have to tell Kinch about…the woods…Hochstetter didn't come… _His eyes met the medic's. "Joe…" Hogan's voice was low and raspy.

"Shh, you're safe, Colonel. You've been…" Before Wilson could explain to Hogan that he had been shot and needed to lie still, Hogan's hand found the front of Wilson's shirt and he tried to pull him closer.

"Don't…" Hogan panted. _Don't tell me I've been shot… just listen…_ _please… _

"Tell…Kinch," Hogan moaned as talking forced damaged muscles to contract and burn. _If Hochstetter knows…must…evacuate… _

"Kinch knows you're here, Colonel." Wilson answered, not realizing there was more Hogan was trying to say. Pulling Hogan's hand away from the front of his shirt, Wilson looked at Schultz. "Do you know how to use that syringe?"

"Jawohl."

"Go ahead and give it," Wilson wrestled with Hogan's arm as the Colonel tried to reach out to stop the syringe from finding its mark.

Schultz ripped Hogan's sleeve and held his shoulder against the bed with his syringe-filled left hand as he wiped the alcohol-damp cotton ball over the skin.

"No…" Hogan gasped. _Listen to…me…_He felt the prick and realized he had only seconds. He struggled to speak as Wilson struggled to keep him still.

"Pleeease…" The plea faded as the morphine sucked the last of Hogan's strength away and his muscles went lax.

The door flew open and the other two medics rushed in.

"Over here, hurry!" Wilson called and looked back at Hogan "It's going to be all right, Colonel. Help has arrived." Seeing the urgency in Hogan's eyes, he mistook it for confusion and tried to explain. "You've been …"

The word _shot _echoed in Hogan's head just as his eyes involuntarily closed.

"That's it. Close your eyes and rest, and let us take care of you." Wilson relaxed his hold on Hogan's arm as it went limp, and he lowered it to the bed. "Thanks, Schultz; we'll take it from here."

Schultz backed away as the door again opened and three more prisoners were ushered inside. "Was ist los?"

"It's okay, Schultz. They're my blood donors," Wilson answered.

The men nodded mutely as they watched the medics working over their CO.

Pulling up another gurney, Wilson motioned the first one to lie down and began palpating for a vein. "You other two, roll up your sleeves and have a seat over there. It's going to be a long night."

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	20. Chapter 20

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 20

The Here and Now

Claude Branson, one of the three medics in camp, carefully lifted Hogan onto his right side and began cutting along the seam of Hogan's shirt as Kyle Anderson, the other medic, kept pressure on the wound.

The shirt fell away and Claude announced, "Looks like we've got an entrance and an exit wound, Joe."

Wilson finished taping the tubing against their first blood donor's forearm and turned to look. "Good, at least we're not going to have to fish for a bullet. Cut that sleeve away and peel the shirt completely clear of the wound." Joe shook his head at the bloody mess being exposed and bit his tongue to keep from saying something he might regret. Turning away, he began rolling up his sleeves while stepping to the sink to wash his hands.

Claude slid the scissors under Hogan's cuff and began cutting the bloody sleeve open. "What the…? Joe, did you know about this?"

Wilson spun away from the sink and stepped back to the gurney. His eyes fixed on a second wound and his teeth clenched, rippling the muscle along his jaw line.

"We'll take that as a 'no'," Kyle commented.

Wilson frowned. There had been no bullet hole in the shirt sleeve; Joe was sure of that because he had checked when he saw the blood on the sleeve. He had assumed it was from the wound in Hogan's side. That clinched it-- this wasn't jiving with what he had been told in the barracks.

"Looks like a near miss here, too." Anderson pointed at a three inch burn mark stretching to the top of Hogan's left shoulder.

"That's it!" Wilson hissed. "Somebody owes me an explanation." Wilson looked at his unconscious patient. "Get that shirt off and throw it in the stove. Klink's going to have to be told about that second wound, and I don't want him examining the Colonel's shirt!" Wilson's eyes traveled the length of Hogan's body. _I wonder if there are any more surprises._ "Look him over while I finish getting everything ready. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with." Frustration spilled into Wilson's thoughts. _Wait until I get my hands on those four… They're lucky he hasn't bled to death already. Somebody should have told me, instead of letting me walk into this blind… And now I have to come up with a plausible explanation for the Colonel's injured arm and… and anything else we find! _

Joe's head was spinning as he fought to get his anger under control. He'd have to worry about fabricating a story for Klink later. Right now, he had enough to handle.

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The rumble of trucks passing in the night shook the windows in Gustoff 's house. "Three trucks," Gustoff announced, without turning to look at Tiger, Morgan, or Morgan's mother, Esther. "And…two staff cars."

Morgan ran to the window in time to see the rear of the last staff car disappear down the snowy street. "That's not a good sign… is it?" He asked, looking at Gustoff.

The old man did not answer, but instead laid his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Esther looked at the faces around her and struggled not to lose faith as she collapsed into a nearby chair, crying.

Tiger looked worriedly at Esther, then sat down beside the grieving woman. "You have to make a decision, Mrs. Schiller. You have a son here who needs you. I know you want to find out about your husband, but we all know when the Gestapo shows up en mass like this that more are soon to be taken away."

Esther looked up at the young woman who was talking to her. "I can't just leave. You don't understand. Heinrich didn't want to…" Esther stopped. She couldn't let anybody know her husband was reporting the activity of their neighbors to the Gestapo. _It was for the good of our sons. _ "Oh, I've been such a fool. Heinrich would never betray… If I hadn't encouraged…"Esther's head began to swim. "We have sons in the service, you know. We were only…"

Tiger nodded. "Yes, Morgan has told me about his brothers," Tiger answered calmly. She decided not to mention that she had run into Heinrich earlier that night and in his frantic search for his son, had shared some of his guilt.

"Mother," Morgan knelt down in front of Esther. "if Father were here he would want us to be safe. I think we should not make our whereabouts known to the Gestapo until we know what is going on." Laying his hand on hers, he lowered his voice. "Tonight, father told me what he had been doing."

Esther looked at her youngest son and felt the need to explain. "We were just trying to…"

"I know, mother," Morgan interrupted. "Father told me _why_ also. But not all men are honest. And those kinds of men will use you for their own purposes. The wheels in the cog are already turning, and we are all only expendable parts of a bigger plan" Morgan paused. "Father also told me… he was finished dealing with the Gestapo."

The sobbing deepened in earnest, as Esther realized what that meant. Once Heinrich had made up his mind to stop he would have told the Gestapo he was done. It was a fool's game they had been playing… and it was over.

The violent shaking of the kitchen door startled everyone. Tiger blinked. Had they been betrayed? Did Heinrich play her… and Lutz… for fools and tell the Gestapo he had run into them on the street tonight? With the bombings that had occurred, that would be enough to take her in for questioning. There wasn't time to run. There wasn't time for regrets. There was only time to gather her courage… and open the door.

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"Here's the bleeder! Clamp it." Wilson held the elusive target between his fingers.

_Click—_immediately a hemostat bit across the vein, stopping the flow of blood.

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_Tweeeeeeeeeee _

The shrill whistle reached across the room, and Klink paced from the window back to the kitchen. Lifting the kettle from the heat he poured himself a cup of hot water and dropped the tea strainer into the cup. Watching the dark amber streams flow freely into the surrounding water, his mind digressed to the blood that he saw oozing out between the medic's fingers as Hogan passed by him on the way to the camp hospital.

The sight of Hogan lying bleeding and motionless on the stretcher had sent him to the tower guard for answers. Everything was in order. Warning shots were fired into the ground in front of the commotion. The guard had reacted appropriately to what he viewed as a disturbance. It was all just an unfortunate turn of events, an accident in the truest sense of the word. No fault to be assumed… no blame to be given… just… an accident.

Klink dunked the tea strainer up and down and, removing it from his cup, laid it in the sink. He watched the brown liquid puddle around the strainer before flowing toward the drain and his thoughts went back to the blood he saw pooled on the floor of Barracks Two. He replayed how he sternly refused Sergeant Kinchloe's request to accompany Hogan.

_Your men need you with them, Sergeant. You can't do anything for your commanding officer. _

Klink's thoughts drifted back to another war, one that had found him in a similar situation, where he was suddenly thrust into command. He, too, wanted to be with his fallen commander, both out of concern and… out of fear. Fear that he, a Hauptmann, would not be able to lead, that the men would not respect him as they had the Major. But being there with them and not leaving them at a time of uncertainty did more to cement their bond to him than anything else he could have done. And when news of the Major's death… his friend's death…came, his place as their leader was already firmly established.

_It's true. War is hell. We survive what should have killed us, only to be taken by…_

Klink stopped himself. _That was a long time ago_… _but it seems history repeats itself, if not in one army…in the next. And yet, life goes on…with or without us. _

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"Suture."

_Slap. _

The needle holder hit Wilson's palm and his hand closed around it, his fingers nimbly slipping into the finger rings. "Okay, as soon as I'm done with this last stitch in his side, we'll move on to his arm. Scotty, it's your turn to give up some blood. Come on over and lie down on that cot."

Nathan Scott stood and stretched. "How's he doing?" he asked daring to take a peek over Wilson's shoulder.

"He'll do a lot better if you follow orders," Wilson answered curtly, before pausing to sigh. And then in a softer voice, Wilson answered, "It's too early to tell."

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Willie rushed in and quickly closed the door behind him.

"The Gestapo is rounding up our neighbors." He looked directly at Morgan. "They say your father was a leader in the Underground and that he led the attacks tonight."

"Was?" Morgan barely whispered.

Willie shot Mrs. Schiller a sideways glance and lowered his eyes, wringing his hat in his hands. "I'm sorry."

A heart-wrenching cry escaped from Esther as she slid from the chair to her knees. "Oh, no, no, no. Not mien Heinrich, please, no!"

Morgan joined his mother, and they held each other as tears flowed freely down their faces.

"Where is the Gestapo now?" Tiger asked.

"Two streets east of here." Looking at Gustoff, he added, "Unless your names are given, they may not come this far." Looking around, Willie asked, "Where's Lutz?" Tiger shook her head sharply, cutting off any further questions from Willie.

Laying his hand on Morgan's shoulder, Gustoff asked, "Did anyone see you leave your house or come in here?"

Morgan wiped his face and blinked, panting, trying to gain some control. "I…I don't think so. I was… being careful." Grabbing his stomach he stood and moaned, "I think, I'm going to be sick."

"There's not time for that now," Tiger answered, while grabbing Esther's hands and pulling her to her feet. "I have to know, Mrs. Schiller; do you want help?"

Slipping her hands out of Tiger's, Esther embraced her son, and nodded.

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Wilson slowly pulled the bullet free from the muscle on the back of Hogan's arm.

"Gotcha!" he announced with satisfaction. His smile faded as he turned the irregularly shaped object, examining its sharp edges. He tossed the bloody slug into the metal basin with a…

_Clank! _

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Newkirk stared blindly at the cards in his hands and, pulling his thumb along the top edge, he shuffled the rectangular shapes into an uneven pile. "See anything, Carter?" he asked, as he looked from the deck of cards to Carter's back, while the young Sergeant peered out the shuttered window.

"Nah, just the guards walking their posts." Carter turned from the window and looked at his friend.

"If Schultz doesn't show up soon, I'm not making any more strudel for him—ever!" LeBeau looked from Carter to Kinch, who sat on his bunk with his back to the wall, staring into space. "Are you all right, Kinch?" Louis asked.

Newkirk followed Louis's gaze and added, "You've hardly moved for the last two hours."

"He probably wore himself out from the pacing he did the two hours before that!" Carter concluded, as he walked to the table and sat down beside Newkirk. "And you'd better give those cards a rest before you wear the ink off of them."

Newkirk slammed the deck down on the table and looking at Carter asked, "There, are you happy now?"

Before Carter could answer a half-dozen voices around the barracks uttered there appreciation.

Kinch threw his legs over the side of his bunk and sat up. "I've just been thinking about the Colonel."

"Oui," Louis answered, turning to pick up the coffee pot.

"No, I mean about him being left out in the woods. How did he get away from the Gestapo? He couldn't have been moving too fast and he had to be leaving a trail. They would have caught up with him… unless…" Kinch's voice trailed off.

"Unless what?" Carter asked.

"Blimey, I didn't even… how _did_ he get away?" Without thinking, Newkirk picked up the deck of cards and began shuffling as his anxiety heightened.

Louis stopped mid-pour and looked at Kinch. "Maybe they thought he was dead, and when the explosions began, they decided to come back and get him later."

"Maybe," Kinch answered slowly. "But that would mean they were close enough to him to make that determination and if they were close enough for that…"

"Then Hochstetter would have identified him!" Newkirk finished.

Louis, deep in thought, set the pot down on the table. "No… no, Hochstetter would not have gone to the explosions. He would have come here, surrounded the camp, and waited for us."

"And he wouldn't have left the Colonel," Carter added looking up from the spot on the floor he had been staring at. "I mean Hochstetter would have checked him out carefully. He would have known the Colonel wasn't dead and brought him along to watch the rest of us being rounded up."

"You're right, Andrew," Kinch agreed.

"Then what bloody well happened out there?" Newkirk demanded.

Kinch stood from his bunk. "I'm going down and find out what Baker and Lutz learned from Tiger. They should have reached her by now."

Newkirk slapped his cards back down on the table. "I'm going with you!"

"Oui!" Louis quickly set the coffee pot back on the stove.

"So am I," Carter announced, stepping next to Kinch.

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_Light? Too bright! _Hogan tried to protest and pull away, but he could do little more than attempt to close his eyes.

_Where…am I? Ahh… _Pain rushed into Hogan's semi-consciousness, forcing a groan from him. His thoughts clouded, as what little strength he had left disintegrated with his endurance, and he drifted back to sleep.

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Wilson opened Hogan's eyes, shining the light into them one at a time. A low moan followed.

"I know," Wilson sympathized, "you want me to leave you alone."

Branson looked up while examining the tubing that was putting life-giving blood back into Hogan's arm, and commented, "At least you're getting some kind of response out of him. That's encouraging."

Wilson nodded and laid his hand on Hogan's forehead, feeling for fever. "Yes, even if it was for only a brief second, his annoyance was right in character." A slight smile slipped across Wilson's face. "You two go on and get some sleep. I'll take the first shift and wake one of you to relieve me in a few hours. All we can do now is wait. The rest is up to Him." Wilson looked heavenward and said a silent prayer.

Kyle finished securing the bandage on Hogan's arm and went to the sink to fill a pitcher with water. "Are you sure Joe? I don't mind taking the first watch."

"I need time to…" Wilson rubbed his face out of frustration as he censored what he was about to say. "Well, let's just say I need some time before I go in search of answers to my questions."

Claude patted Joe on the shoulder and offered, "All right, but if you change your mind in an hour, wake one of us."

Wilson nodded, and watched as Kyle, smiling, placed the water filled pitcher and a glass on the table next to Hogan's bed. "Here you go, Joe. If I wasn't so tired, I'd wager how much of this you'll get down him. But instead, I think I'll just say—_Good luck!" _

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	21. Chapter 21

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 21

December 31st

Hegel plopped down in the chair behind his desk and tugged at his gloves, methodically pulling each finger free from the black leather encasing them, while looking into the darkness beyond his lamp. Hochstetter was on his way to take the guards he had borrowed back to Stalag 13; now there was time to think.

Gestapo Headquarters was uncharacteristically quiet this time of night. The only sound was the radiator behind him, popping and crackling as steam worked its way through the coiled conduits. It was a familiar welcoming sound, luring Hegel to pivot in his chair and plop his feet on the window sill over the radiating heat.

This night he had accomplished both a lot—the saboteurs' identities were still hidden from Major Hochstetter—and a little: "Papa Bear" _may_ have gone in the direction of Stalag 13.

Hegel's close encounter with this Underground figure only served to make him more anxious to find out who this criminal was. But with Schiller's death, there would be no source in Hammelburg to eavesdrop on the townspeople; he would have to find another means to gather information.

Hegel rubbed his chin as he thought; _I probably wouldn't have been able to use Schiller much longer anyway. If the baker hadn't made anyone suspicious **yet**, he soon would have; this Underground unit has not survived this long by being careless. _

The radiating heat began to soak through Hegel's boots warming his feet. Taking a deep, contented breath, he stretched and leaned back in his chair as he thought about the three well-placed explosions he had witnessed tonight.

_Whoever this "Papa Bear" is, he's a genius at subterfuge. _

Hegel hated the notion, but he had to give credit where credit was due. _Major Hochstetter may be right. _He grimaced at the thought. _"Papa Bear" could be a resident of Luft Stalag 13._ Hegel paused to consider that idea. _If it is the American Colonel leading this Underground unit, then I'll be pitting myself against a trained military mind_.

Delight showed in Hegel's eyes, transforming the grimace into a calculating grin.

_I would welcome a good chase_. _The civilians we normally deal with hardly offer any challenge at all. It would make the cornering and capturing_ _much more meaningful to out think someone with real military intelligence_.

Hegel tensed as he had another thought and his smile suddenly disappeared.

_I suppose Hochstetter will want me to help him weed through some of the prisoners he took tonight. What a waste of time… still, I expect there is no way around it. I mean, I'm the only one who knows Schiller was innocent. I'm just going to have to… play along._

Hegel sighed and slid his feet down to the floor, while remembering Hochstetter's relieved laugh as he realized he was _out from under the gun_ now that he had a dead saboteur in his possession. _Yes, _ _Berlin__ will give you a "pat on the back" for tonight. _ Turning back to his desk the smile reappeared...

_But the last laugh will be mine!_

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_We're going down! _

His throat tightened to prevent him from swallowing the smoke filling the cockpit.

_Can't breathe! _

Choking, he leaned forward, struggling to free himself from his seat. Fire shot through his left arm.

"Mmm!" Moaning in pain and fighting to inhale, his right hand shot forward searching for anything he could grab… anything that would help to pull him free of whatever it was keeping him in place.

_Got to get out… have to jump before it's too late!_

Swallowing, his throat cleared and he gasped for…

"Air!" The word came out in a hoarse whisper.

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Red-faced from the struggle and oblivious to the nightmare going on behind Hogan's closed eyes, Wilson encouraged, "That's it, swallow, don't breathe." Again, he placed the cup to Hogan's clamped jaw.

"Mmmm!" The moan turned into a cough, and what little water Wilson had gotten past his obstinate commander's lips sprayed out. Joe set the cup down and, fighting to keep the Colonel's good right arm under control, raised Hogan's head higher as the Colonel continued coughing.

"You have plenty of _air_," Wilson assured him, trying to keep his voice calm. "What you need is water. You have a fever. Do you hear me, Colonel? Drink!" _Please! _

Hogan shuddered, uttering a garbled, "Jump…" as his right arm slid down to his side and he again fell silent. Wilson shook his head in resignation and lowered Hogan back to the bed. Wringing out a cool cloth, he laid it across the Colonel's forehead before checking that the dressings, protecting the still fresh wounds, had remained in one piece.

"Good, still dry and intact," Wilson mumbled to himself. "At least we seem to have gotten the bleeding stopped." Then, looking up at the ceiling, he quietly prayed, "Do You think you could do something about this fever?" Wilson looked back down at Hogan. "…or his _obstinence_?"

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Schultz struggled through the snow, with great clumps of the white stuff clinging to his boots, weighing down each step. He was tired, mentally and physically. Circling the camp one last time he swept past the Kommandant's quarters.

"Is everything all right, Langenscheidt?"

"Jawohl," Langenscheidt answered, saluting, his heels not quite able to snap together in the deepening snow.

Schultz tossed back a tired salute, followed by a sideways wave, dismissing any military formalities. "At ease, Karl, it's been too long a night."

Langenscheidt relaxed. "Danke, Sergeant."

"The Kommandant is still up?" Schultz asked, blowing into his hands.

"Ja, I've seen him looking out the window." Karl nodded toward the window next to the porch.

Schultz looked wearily across the compound. "He's probably waiting on a report on Colonel Hogan's condition. I'd better go see the prisoners' medics."

"Is Colonel Hogan going to be all right?" Karl asked. "The medic seemed uncertain when we were in Barracks Two."

"I don't know. They were just starting to care for him when I left." Schultz shook his head, still finding it hard to believe what had happened, and looked over at Barracks Two. The building was dark and quite, but he knew looks could be deceiving, _especially_ when it came to Barracks Two. He had been putting off going back to the hospital, afraid of what he might find. Colonel Hogan had been _confused_ and writhing in pain. He hated seeing this side of the war, where men suffered while fighting for or against a cause they had no control over--even if they were prisoners.

Now, it seemed he could procrastinate no longer. Turning back to Langenscheidt, he asked, "If the Kommandant calls for me, tell him I went to get information on Colonel Hogan and will be back to report."

Langenscheidt snapped to attention and saluted, "Jawohl!"

Schultz groaned at Langenscheidt's return to military protocol. He had neither the strength nor the inclination to salute, and instead trudged off in the direction of the camp hospital.

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"We need to get this fever down!" Wilson mumbled, not expecting a response and not getting one in return. Hogan had no idea where he was. Whether it was from fever or shock, Wilson wasn't sure. But Hogan in his delirium was not cooperating.

"All right," Wilson sighed, again setting the cup of water aside. "I'll leave you alone—for a few minutes." Reaching over he felt the heat coming off of Hogan's forehead, and determinedly warned, "But next time, you must drink! Or I'll…"

The outside door opened momentarily drawing Wilson's attention. Schultz stepped inside and did a quick scan. He counted two forms lying in the cots on the opposite side of the room and one lying next to Wilson. –_That's four— _Schultz made a mental note to check that the three prisoners brought in to donate blood had returned to their barracks.

The cold air snaked across the room and targeted Wilson's arm, drawing the medic's attention to his damp shirt sleeve. Disgusted, he glanced worriedly at the still form on the cot.

"Schultz, I don't have time to chat."

Seeing the concern on the medic's face, Schultz lumbered over to look at Hogan. "How is he? I promised the boys in Barracks Two that I would give them a report."

Wilson didn't have to ask who "_the_ _boys"_ were and glared up at Schultz from his seat next to Hogan.

"Don't tell those four _anything_! Let them see what it's like being on the other end of the stick."

"What?" Schultz looked at Wilson, confused.

Afraid he had said more than he should have, Wilson closed his mouth, and picked up Hogan's wrist, to take his pulse.

"I will need to report to the Kommandant," Schultz prompted, hoping to get a better response.

Without looking up Wilson gruffly answered from between clenched teeth. "He's alive."

Schultz straightened slightly and stared at Wilson. "Is that it? That is what you want me to tell the Kommandant? Only that Colonel Hogan is alive?" Schultz asked. "I will have to tell him more than that…"

Schultz abruptly stopped talking as a thought occurred to him. "Is he going to _stay_ alive?"

Wilson couldn't say much more about the Colonel's current condition. The next twenty-four hours would tell them more. And he certainly wasn't ready to share that they had found a second bullet wound. Three if he wanted to count the burn left by a third. He hadn't had time to work on his _story; _he'd been too busy trying to repair ripped veins and torn muscles. Tired and feeling the weight of keeping the covert operations taking place at Stalag 13 a secret, Wilson rubbed his face and, exhausted, dropped his hands onto his knees declaring again…

"Right now… the Colonel's alive. Let's just be grateful for that."

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"Try it again."

Kinch rounded the corner in time to hear Lutz's request. "Any luck?" He asked hopefully.

Lutz spun around startled but, quickly recovering, shook his head. "No! I don't understand where she could be." He took a step toward Kinch. "Have you heard anything about the Colonel?

"Not yet," Kinch sighed, breaking eye contact.

Lutz, exhaled loudly. "Were striking out on two fronts then, aren't we?" Turning, Lutz demanded, "Try again."

It had been only seconds since Baker's last failed attempt. And the young radioman wanted desperately to remind Lutz of that fact. But instead, as he looked into Lutz's worried eyes, he swallowed his annoyance and, leaning forward, twisted the dials in front of him, intently listening to the static feeding into his ears.

"Papa Bear calling Sparrow… Papa Bear calling Sparrow… Come in Sparrow… Over." The rote repetition flowed monotonously into the microphone as six pairs of eyes eagerly stared at the radio waiting for it to talk back.

After several long seconds, Baker looked up and shook his head. "Nothing."

Kinch walked closer, looking at the dial settings. Why, he didn't know. Baker was an experienced radio operator; he knew the settings would be right. It's just that… he felt so… helpless. Still looking at the radio, he confessed, "I was hoping Tiger would be able to shed some light on what happened tonight."

"I thought we knew what happened?" Carter asked, puzzled.

"I think Kinch means, he was hoping Tiger would have heard more information about what the Gestapo did tonight." LeBeau answered.

Newkirk ran his hands over his pockets, methodically patting them down looking for a cigarette. "Right, Andrew, I mean it would be nice to know if we had time to write a last letter home before the Gestapo lines us all up and shoots us!" Finally pulling out a rumpled pack, he removed his last cigarette and tugged on the ends to straighten it.

"Hochstetter's had plenty of time to get here; why would he be taking so long if he knew we were the saboteurs?" Kinch wondered, turning from the radio and looking at the others.

"He's… toying with us," Newkirk answered, between puffs.

Carter looked wide-eyed from Kinch to Newkirk, clinging to Kinch's logic while listening to Newkirk's panic.

"We're not going to solve anything down here," LeBeau warned. "We'd better get back upstairs before Schultz shows up and finds us missing."

Newkirk turned and paced nervously. "I say we take the tunnel to the infirmary and check on the Colonel ourselves. We've waited ruddy long enough for Schultz!" Newkirk's words spilled out in a steady stream of smoke.

"Yeah," Carter agreed, taking a step forward.

"That's a great idea, and when they find us there, we can all explain to Klink how we got there without the guards seeing us," Kinch answered sarcastically.

"Oui, not to mention having to get past Wilson," Louis growled.

"LeBeau's right. You know how protective Wilson is of his patients. We wouldn't stand a chance of getting within ten feet of the Colonel," Carter agreed.

"Blimey, Carter, I wish you'd pick a side and stay on it!"

'Well, I'm only…"

"Knock it off, you two. We'll just have to wait for Schultz or Klink to tell us something or release us from being confined to the barracks." Kinch pointed at the ladder. "Let's go."

"Bloody marvelous!" Newkirk stamped out the butt of his cigarette and headed for the ladder.

Lutz, watching the foursome disappear, turned back to Baker.

"Try it again."

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Klink _rested_ on the divan, half asleep. Dreams, spurred by unconscious thought, flashed through his mind. A long ago battlefield whose inhabitants were a mixed conglomerate of two wars, waged a nonsensical battle. Uniforms were incongruent and changed freely, making it difficult to tell who was fighting who. He could not even distinguish whose side he was on. The central figure in all of this was… Hochstetter, who remained a constant threat to everyone.

_Knock, knock, knock! _

Klink's head snapped up. _What…? _

_Knock, knock! _"Herr Kommandant?"

_Where am I? _Briefly disoriented, Klink blinked taking in his surroundings. _Oh…only a dream. _Relieved to be out of the nightmare, he recognized Schultz's voice. _What time is it? _He looked at the clock… _Six a.m._It all came rushing back_.—Hogan! _ Throwing back his cover, he went to answer the door.

"Come in, Schultz. Do you have some news for me…?" _About, Colonel Hogan_ was left unspoken.

"He is alive, Herr Kommandant."

Klink stared expectantly at Schultz. "Yessss…and…"

"And that is all Sergeant Wilson would say." Schultz looked apologetically at Klink. "I asked him twice, Herr Kommandant. I don't think he couldsay more."

"How does Hogan look?"

"Not so good, Herr Kommandant. He was muttering in his sleep. Sergeant Wilson says he has a fever."

"See, Schultz, you did know more," Klink accused, before turning and pacing across the room, while thinking out loud. "A fever… that's not good."

"No, Herr Kommandant."

"But I suppose it's to be expected." Spinning back around, Klink asked, "Did Sergeant Wilson ask for anything?"

"No…he looked tired, I think Colonel Hogan had been resisting his help. At least I know he was before the other medics arrived."

"Resisting his help? How?"

"He tried to move Sergeant Wilson's hand off of his wound and when that didn't work he grabbed his shirt. I had to help give him some morphine to calm him down."

Klink raised an eye at Schultz, as he visualized the scene. _Hogan must have been in great pain to lower his guard in front of his men._

Schultz, anxious to check on the men of Barracks Two, edged toward the door. "If that is all, Herr Kommandant, I will finish checking the guards and try to get some sleep before roll call."

"All right Schultz, you may go. Keep me informed if there are any changes."

Yawning a "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz weakly saluted and hurriedly made his escape.

Klink stood without moving. Schultz's report left him with more questions than answers. He wanted… needed… to know more. Turning, he headed for his bedroom. He would dress and get his own answers.

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"Hey, Schultz is coming." Carter turned from the window smiling.

"It's about bloody time."

LeBeau bounded past Carter to try and read Schultz's face. "Come on Schultzie, walk faster."

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Baker stared at the radio. Lutz stared at Baker. If a pin were to be dropped, it would be deafening.

A single word exploded the silence.

"Anything?"

Baker and Lutz jumped, nearly falling off their chairs.

"You scared the… _Can't you three make some noise when you enter a room_?" Lutz demanded, staring at Kinch, Newkirk and Carter.

"We didn't realize we were being quiet!" Carter answered, smiling.

"Sorry," Kinch added, and then asked, "No news yet?"

Lutz tiredly ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head, no.

"But you guys look like you've got some good news," Baker commented, looking at the threesome.

"Schultz says the Colonel's alive."

Kinch barely got that said, before Carter continued. "He says Colonel Hogan's giving Wilson a hard time."

"That sounds like the gov'nor…" Newkirk was cut short by the sound of the warning trip-wire attached to the emergency tunnel.

Kinch lunged for the crate next to the radio and took out three pistols. Without a word he handed one each to Newkirk and Carter and doused the lamp.

Movement could be heard and barely audible…crying? Carter looked questioningly at Newkirk, who held up his hand for Carter not to move. The sounds gradually became louder, becoming mixed with muted voices.

Lutz, recognizing one of the voices, was the first to explode from the room. "Marie! We've…" The sight of Morgan and his mother stopped him cold. "What's wrong?"

Kinch, Newkirk and Carter stepped out of the shadows and lowered their guns.

Tiger looked at them and nodded, then glancing at Esther said, "Please put those away."

Newkirk, suddenly feeling awkward, gathered the guns and disappeared back into the darkness of the radio room.

The urgency in Tiger's voice set every nerve in Kinch's body on edge. He wasn't sure he wanted his next question answered, but he had to ask. "What happened?"

"Morgan's father has been killed and labeled by the Gestapo as a member of the Underground." Tiger's eyes quickly searched the tunnel. "Where is Colonel Hogan? We will need his help to get Morgan and his mother out of Germany."

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The snow was finally tapering off when Hochstetter's staff car and the truck bearing the guards borrowed from Stalag 13 turned into the compound.

Hochstetter scanned the serene setting. The barracks were all dark and quiet, while a few guards huddled around a drum fire. Searchlights and a few outside lamps lit the compound as well as the areas directly outside of the fence, creating a surreal atmosphere. The Gestapo Major's lips curled into a disgusted sneer.

_Well, Kommandant, it doesn't look like you've lost any sleep tonight! _


	22. Chapter 22

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 22

What's Going On?

"Where is Colonel Hogan? We will need his help to get Morgan and his mother out of Germany." Tiger's question hung heavy in the air, sealing the tunnel in silence.

"Kinch!"

LeBeau's voice cut through the tense quiet of the tunnel, distracting everyone from Tiger's question.

Briefly relieved to be able to side-step answering, Kinch spun around and rushed over to the ladder, looking up into the darkness of Barrack Two.

"What is it, Louis?"

LeBeau's strained face loomed out, eyes and mouth prominent as his hair and body blended into the blackness. "Hochstetter just pulled into the compound with the guards he borrowed from Klink."

Kinch didn't have to repeat the news. His two fellow prisoners were on either elbow while Lutz and Tiger pressed into his back.

"Stay here!" Kinch ordered Tiger and Lutz. Leaving no room for questions, he immediately motioned to Carter and Newkirk. "Come on… it's show time."

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Dreading facing Klink, Hochstetter's hand clutched the door handle before the staff car came to a complete stop. Though he had killed and identified a member of the Underground, he did not view this night a complete success. After all, his _factory _had been destroyed, a section of railway and the Hammelburg Bridge had been blown up, and communication wires in and out of Hammelburg had been cut. And the insult of all insults was that he was going to have to listen to that idiot Klink gloat over these obvious failures.

Stepping out of the car, Hochstetter quickly looked around the compound once more. The calmness of the camp gave him hope. Perhaps all here were oblivious to the reasons for the explosions that had been scattered around the city last night. His embarrassment began to ease. Maybe Klink was ignorant of last night's activities.

_Why am I worried about Klink? After all, the man sleeps in a hairnet and blindfold. How much could he have seen? _

Filled with fragile self-built confidence, Hochstetter boldly stomped up the steps to Klink's door.

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**Back in the tunnel…**

Lutz watched the opening into Barracks Two seal and turned back to face Tiger, who had turned to reassure Morgan and his mother.

"That must be why Colonel Hogan wasn't down here when we arrived. He must have been watching for Major Hochstetter's return." Tiger walked back toward the warm glow coming from the radio room, still thinking out loud and trying to predict what was occurring upstairs. "Colonel Hogan has to play Major Hochstetter very carefully." Nodding to herself, she continued, "Oui, that would explains why he was upstairs." Tiger's voice strengthened as she made that conclusion, and she turned looking at Lutz for confirmation.

Lutz did not return Tiger's expectant stare, instead his eyes fixed on Morgan's mother. "Tiger, why don't you take Mrs. Schiller to the _guest _quarters where she can lie down?"

Tiger followed Lutz's eyes. The woman was weak with exhaustion and appeared as if she would collapse at any moment. Moving to Esther's side, Tiger draped her arm around the woman's waist. "Come with me, Mrs. Schiller. I'll show you where you can rest."

The two women were barely gone when Morgan, pointing at the ceiling, rushed toward Lutz and growled, "Those murderers! Are we just going to stand here while Hochstetter arrests everybody? He may be shooting Colonel Hogan and his men, right now as we speak!"

That thought had also occurred to Lutz. He turned and paced away, consciously resisting the urge to grab guns from the prisoners' arsenal and _go out shooting,_ if—in fact—this was the end. But that was not how he had seen Colonel Hogan operate, and this was the Colonel's operation. The American always played the odds. And right now that meant…

"We wait! Hochstetter may not do anything right now." If the Colonel had been identified, Lutz was banking on the Gestapo Major wanting Colonel Hogan on his feet so the prisoner could see and appreciate exactly what was coming.

"You can't know that!" Morgan turned took a step and spun back around to face Lutz, tears stinging his eyes. "I watched the Gestapo take my father away and…" Morgan's voice cracked, "…he's not coming back! We need to act now before it is too late. We may not be able to stop him, but we can take as many of them with us as we can!"

"You're letting your emotions rule your thinking. We wait! Kinch and the others will handle things up there. We have enough to handle here." Lutz watched as Morgan, red-faced, turned his back and leaned on the radio. "Your mother needs you." Morgan did not move. Lutz sighed. "All right stay here. I'm going to go see if Tiger needs any help." Lutz, fighting the guilt of not having yet told Tiger about the night's activities steeled himself for what lay ahead and, with a backward glance left Morgan, giving the boy some private time to come to terms with all that had happened.

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Klink emerged from his bedroom, fully dressed, to the sound of banging on his front door.

_What could possibly have happened now? _he thought, reaching for the door handle. Klink literally had to jump out of the way as the Gestapo Major stormed in.

"Major Hochstetter!" Klink stuttered, anticipating the Gestapo Major's accusatory attack concerning the whereabouts tonight of his senior POW Officer. "I know your factory was blown up tonight…"

Hochstetter's brave front crumbled at Klink's announcement. Lowering his head, he turned to pace, trying to dodge the insults he believed were about to be hurled at him. "Yes, well… I…" he stumbled for words. Humiliated, feeling guilty and—dare he think it—even more inept than he viewed Klink, he searched for a way to justify his actions, or at least lessen the degradation of having been made a fool of by the Underground. "You see…"

Klink seeing none of what was happening in front of his eyes, began trying to talk his way out of the accusations, he assumed, Hochstetter had come to level at him. "I know what you're thinking, Major Hochstetter, but there is no way Colonel Hogan could have had anything to do with what happened tonight. He was shot by one of my guards and…"

"…I…" Hochstetter stopped, and looked questioningly at Klink. Did he just hear correctly? Did Klink just say that Hogan had been …? "What? What did you say? Colonel Hogan has been _shot_?"

Klink stuttered, "I assure you it was an accident. The bullets ricocheted and… Why am I explaining myself to you? The fact is Colonel Hogan could not have been involved in tonight's sabotage activity."

Hochstetter's straightened, filled with renewed self esteem, he realized Klink thought he had come for Hogan. The Kommandant was not trying to belittle _him_, he was trying to keep _himself_ and his _camp_ from being accused of having played any part in what happened in town tonight. Hochstetter sneered at Klink's self inflicted guilt. Once again feeling in control, he pounced on Klink's weakness. "I want to see Hogan!" Hochstetter demanded, as he marched toward the door.

Klink, having already played through this scenario in his head, instinctively opened the door and miserably followed Hochstetter out into the disappearing darkness, while thinking, _And I haven't even had time to tell General Burkhalter yet. _

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**Back in the tunnel another problem was revealing itself… **

Lutz stood in the doorway watching Tiger place a blanket over Esther. Morgan's mother had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Tiger, feeling a presence, anxiously turned to see who it was. The excitement dwindled from her eyes as she came to realize it was not whom she had hoped to see. However, disappointment was quickly replaced with concern as she looked questioningly into Lutz's troubled face. Lutz nodded for her to follow; it was time he told her about Colonel Hogan.

"What's wrong?" Tiger asked, as they entered the radio room.

Lutz did not answer, but instead looked around the room.

Walking around Lutz, Tiger frowned and asked, "Where's Morgan?"

"I left him here. He was upset about his father's death and the arrival of the Gestapo upstairs…" Lutz sprang up the ladder worried the boy may have gone to confront Hochstetter. Trying the exit, he found it was locked from above. Relieved, he descended back down and announced, "He didn't go that way."

"He probably wandered off into the tunnels to be alone. We had better find him," Tiger answered, concerned that Morgan may need some support.

It didn't take long to realize—Morgan wasn't there!

"Where could he have gone?" Tiger questioned. "He knows the Gestapo is looking for him and his mother."

Lutz sighed and rubbed his face. "He was really upset with me. I didn't think… He wanted to go up and face Hochstetter… He wants revenge for his father's death, and he was worried that the Gestapo was up there shooting Colonel Hogan…" Lutz caught his breath and stumbled over the truth he had just spoken. "…and… his men."

Tiger picked up on Lutz's expression. "What's wrong? What aren't you telling me?"

Lutz looked into Tiger's expectant eyes. There was no good way to say it. "Marie, Colonel Hogan was shot tonight."

Tiger felt her strength leave her. She struggled to stay calm. Forcing the knot in her stomach to unclench, she took in a shaky breath as tears began to swell. It was all becoming too much. Starting with running into Morgan's father on the streets of Hammelburg, seeing the unexplained explosions popping up around the town, Lutz's disappearance and Morgan's reappearance with the news of the change in plans, only to be followed by Morgan's father's death and he and his mother running from the Gestapo, and now… and now…

"Is he…" The words would not come. A single tear spilled down her cheek.

Lutz reached out, placing a hand on each shoulder, he smiled encouragingly. "He is alive and being cared for by the prisoners medics. The prisoners made Klink think that a burst of warning shots went astray and hit Colonel Hogan." Lutz pulled Tiger to him. "His men are very resourceful."

"He'll be all right?" Tiger asked, pushing back from Lutz's comforting arms. She saw the brief twitch in Lutz's eyes and stopped. "Don't answer. Later…we'll talk later." She forced herself to stop. All could depend on what they do this night. She had to stay focused. _He_ would expect that of her. "Right now we need to find Morgan, before he does something dangerous."

Lutz looked down the darkened passages. "He must have gone out the emergency tunnel. That is the only other exit he knows. I'll go out and find him." Lutz picked up his jacket and felt a lump bang into his side as he slipped it on. Reaching inside his pocket he realized, he still had the second dynamite pack that he had taken away from Colonel Hogan earlier that night. He started to take it out and leave it in the tunnel but, instead, patted it gently and left it in place.

"Be careful! The Gestapo will still be looking for Morgan and his mother." Tiger warned, as her trembling hands fastened the top button on Lutz's coat.

Lutz nodded, hating that he had to leave Tiger after what he had just told her, but Morgan was the more pressing issue now. The boy knew enough about the operation that if captured and forced to talk, their operation would be ended along with many lives.

Lutz stepped out of the tree stump hiding the tunnel opening and, crouching next to a rock, looked for a trail. He found it. Grabbing a stick, Lutz began following Morgan, wiping out their tracks as he went.

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Anderson was on duty watching their patient when Hochstetter slammed through the door to the medical hut.

"Where is he?"

The Major scanned the room as two sleeping figures lurched up from their cots. Glaring at the figures, he demanded, "Who are those men?"

"They are two of the POWs' medics. Sergeant Wilson and…"

"Bah, I don't care who they are. Where is Colonel Hogan?" Hochstetter advanced on the only other occupied cot. He looked at the medic seated there and ordered, "Get out of the way."

Anderson stood and moved back. Wilson and Branson, now on their feet, moved up behind Anderson.

Ripping the blanket off of Hogan, Hochstetter threw it to the floor. The Gestapo Major grabbed Hogan's left wrist and raised the injured arm, to look at the bandage.

Shivering with fever, Hogan moaned but remained oblivious to what was happening.

Wilson tensed. _Get away from him! _

"You didn't mention he had been shot more than once, Klink. Are you _sure_ he wasn't shot while trying to escape?" Hochstetter paused, dropped Hogan's injured arm which elicited another groan, and glared menacingly at Klink. "Or—more to the point— maybe he was shot while trying to get _back_ into camp."

Klink straightened with mock conviction, as he concealed his anger at not being told of the second wound. He would deal with this insubordination later. Right now, he needed iron-clad proof to get Hochstetter off of his back, and he wasn't above…creating it. "I am quite sure! Colonel Hogan was shot immediately after the first explosion tonight. The prisoners, hearing the commotion, ran to the doors to see what was happening, and the guards fired warning shots. The ricocheting bullets hit Colonel Hogan."

It was a lie, and everyone in the room knew it was a lie, except Major Hochstetter. Colonel Hogan was not shot until sometime after the third and final explosion. The medics tried not to look dumbfounded as the obvious untruth registered. Klink was covering for them… No, for himself, but inevitably for _them_!

Hochstetter grabbed at the larger dressing and ripped it off. Hogan grunted, slightly drawing up his left leg. Wilson took a menacing step forward uttering a protest, but was immediately pulled back by Anderson and Branson. Hochstetter's reaction was immediate. He pulled his pistol and pointed it at the three medics. "Stay back. Or there will be more than one prisoner shot here tonight!"

Klink, nervously, cleared his throat. "Well, actually, it's morning, Major Hochstetter. And I have a camp to run. It's time for morning roll call." Klink watched as Hochstetter examined the wound on Hogan's side.

Wilson shifted his weight uncomfortably. _Keep your hands off of him! _He wanted to jerk the Major away from the bed, and if he wasn't afraid of Hochstetter shooting Branson or Anderson... Joe took in a settling breath; there was nothing he could do except wait… And put the pieces back together later.

Hogan began to mumble incoherently enticing Hochstetter to turn the POW's face toward him while he tried to make sense of the garbled speech. "What are you saying Hogan? Speak up!"

"He is obviously delirious." Klink answered, irritated that Hochstetter would treat Hogan, or any injured man for that matter, in such a calloused manner.

Hochstetter straightened and looked down on Hogan. "You are sure this happened right after the first explosion?" Hochstetter raised his eyes to look at Klink.

"I ought to know when one of my prisoners is shot!"

Hochstetter continued to stare mutely at Klink, still deciding whether to believe him or not.

Klink began to sweat. "If you don't believe me, you can go look at the blood on the floor in Barracks Two! That should tell you that Hogan was shot, right here, _inside_ of Stalag 13!"

"I think I will do that, Kommandant," Hochstetter threatened as he marched around Hogan's cot, putting his pistol back into his holster. _If I can't prove Hogan was out of camp tonight, at least I will have the satisfaction of seeing his spilled blood. _

Klink looked back over his shoulder as he followed Hochstetter out and saw the medics busily undoing what damage Hochstetter had inflicted. _I will be back, gentlemen, and you had better have some answers for me about that second bullet wound_.

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The men in Barracks Two had been pacing and listening since Hochstetter stormed out of Klink's quarters in the direction of the camp hospital.

"What if you're wrong, Kinch?" Carter asked, turning from the window.

Still peering out the closed shutters, Newkirk took it upon himself to answer for Kinch. "Then we'll all bloody well go out there and take the Colonel away from Hochstetter, blow up this ruddy camp, and head back to England!"

"Oui, that maniac will not take Le _Colonel_! We are all going out together or we die together," LeBeau answered glaring at Kinch with crossed arms.

Obviously, Kinch's decision to stay put, when Hochstetter stormed off toward the camp hospital, had not been met with complete agreement. Kinch, however, appeared to be holding his ground as he sat at the table passing an empty cup, left out on the table from the night before, back and forth between his hands. _How does the Colonel do this? Making decisions and waiting to see if they're the right decisions. All the while juggling the Germans and keeping them off balance. Whatever they're paying him… it's not enough. _

The tension was suddenly increased by Newkirk's warning. "There they are!"

"Do they have Colonel Hogan with them?" Carter asked, trying to push his way back to the window.

Newkirk, not budging from his spot, answered, "No."

LeBeau closed his eyes and slumped slightly in relief. "Where are Klink and Hochstetter going now?" he questioned, again opening his eyes looking for answers.

"Here!" Newkirk answered. "They're coming here!" Everyone jumped for their bunks. The Englander closed the windows and had barely fallen limply onto his mattress when the door burst open and a gravely voice yelled...

"Everybody up!"

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	23. Chapter 23

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 23

Where There's Life… There's Hope

"There!" Klink announced, standing between Hogan's quarters and the stove.

Cold air swirled through the open door as prisoners jumped from their bunks, obeying Hochstetter's order to, "_Get up!_" Giving Klink and Hochstetter a wide girth, the scantily clad men bunched together.

Kinch, edging in behind Newkirk and LeBeau, watched as Carter rushed to close the door and preserve what little warmth the stove still had to give. _Is this it?_ _Where are the guards? _His heart was pounding in his chest. Judging from Hochstetter's presence, and still not knowing why Colonel Hogan had been shot and left behind, there was a good possibility they were all about to be arrested. He turned his attention back to Klink and Hochstetter, expecting the door to fling open at any moment and the room to fill with Gestapo guards.

"Just as I said, there's the blood stain. That proves Colonel Hogan was shot right here in camp—shortly after the _first _explosion." Klink pointed at the floor where Hogan had laid bleeding and hoped the prisoners were paying attention to what he had just said?

At least one was. Newkirk shot a quick glance at LeBeau, who shrugged almost imperceptibly while shifting his weight and wrapping his arms around himself trying to keep warm.

The bloodstain, still visible despite the water that had been used in an attempt to rinse the memory away, enticed Hochstetter to bend down and get a better view. "It looks like you may have been telling the truth—for a change—Herr Kommandant."

Running his hand over the discolored floorboards, the Gestapo Major examined his fingers for any trace of Hogan's blood, before looking back at the floor and smiling with satisfaction.

Klink watched, the distasteful exhibition, and assured, "I told you, Major; nobody in this camp had anything to do with tonight's sabotage activity."

"Mmmm," Hochstetter answered noncommittally. Standing he looked around the common room and crept closer to the huddled prisoners. "Keep these men under constant surveillance, until we finish our investigation."

_Hochstetter isn't going to arrest us? _Kinch held his breath and stared back at the Gestapo Major trying to make sense out of what was happening. _Why would Hochstetter be buying Klink's story about the Colonel being wounded inside of Stalag 13? He wouldn't_… _not unless he didn't **see** the Colonel get shot tonight…_ _That has to be the answer. _Kinch studied Hochstetter's somber face. _Hochstetter doesn't know he shot Colonel Hogan or **we** wouldn't still be here. _Straightening slightly, a glimmer of hope ignited and Kinch, though confused, sent off a silent prayer of thanks. _What **did **happen out there tonight? _

Klink bounded for the door, holding it open and inviting the Gestapo Major to leave. He had one thought—Get Hochstetter out of here before somebody slipped up and made him even more suspicious!

Feeling rather than seeing the invitation to leave, Hochstetter ignored the gesture and circled the prisoners like a wolf stalking a flock of sheep. A flock, whose guard dog, Colonel Hogan, was not there to protect them. It was time to check _stories_.

Stopping in front of Carter, Hochstetter snarled, "How did Colonel Hogan get shot?"

Holding his breath, Klink hoped the prisoners had caught on to what he was trying to do?

The dance began!

Carter pursed his lips to speak, but it was Newkirk's voice that first broke the silence. "Well you don't bloody well think one of _us_ shot him! The ruddy tower guards…"

Kinch interrupted the Englander before he could finish, once again cutting Carter off in the process. "Like Colonel Klink said it was right after the first explosion…"

"Oui, someone ought to take their guns away…" Louis cried out before being drowned out by Carter, who was almost vibrating by the time he added his voice to the ruckus.

"For crying out loud, I just wanted to see the explosion and as soon as I opened the door…"

The routine quickly caught on and a chorus of voices filled the room with half sentences as the other prisoners of Barrack Two all began speaking at once.

Klink, often caught off guard by this kind of spontaneous chaos, scrunched his face and began to order silence, when suddenly—he froze. The Gestapo Major appeared to be mesmerized. Klink wondered, _Is this really spontaneous jabbering_? _Or a well rehearsed smokescreen designed to confuse and overwhelm. _

Cautiously continued along this dangerous line of thinking, he wondered, _Could Hogan have his men so well trained that, when engaged by the enemy, they automatically create an atmosphere of havoc, buying their commanding officer time to think…and act_?—_Why, that would mean…_

Blinking, Klink shook the notion out of his head. _No, don't be ridiculous…_Closing his mouth and swallowing, he decided on a safer train of thought. _I'm just being paranoid_. _My guilt over lying to Hochstetter is affecting me and I'm imagining things. But on the other hand_…

Klink wasn't above taking advantage of a situation when it presented itself, and this _unplanned_ distraction was a prime opportunity. Stepping up behind Hochstetter, he yelled over the noise.

"You can see how easily they get out of hand. They're like children. And with the unexpected excitement of that first explosion, well, it's no wonder the guards had to fire warning shots and..." Klink paused, it struck him that he was behaving precisely as he had seen his senior POW officer behave on numerous occasions while the American officer turned a situation around to his advantage, and the similarity—nauseated him.

Hochstetter was infuriated. He was gaining no useful information he could twist around to make a connection between Hogan's wounds and the nights activities… fact or not. Custody of Hogan would _get_ him a confession. All he needed was some thin thread to base an arrest on.

_But there was no exchange of gunfire tonight except for Major Hegel's bringing down of the saboteur at the dummy factory, and that took place long after Klink's account of what happened here at Stalag 13._ _If I could just get **one** prisoner to contradict Klink_!

"_Enough_! All of you! This investigation is not over! We may learn more once we locate the traitor's family and finish searching his property." Spinning back around to face Klink, Hochstetter demanded, "Keep a close eye on your prisoners, _Kommandant_!"

"They aren't going anywhere! You're forgetting there has _never_ been a successful escape from Stalag 13," Klink answered.

The familiar words were like chalk screeching on a blackboard. Gritting his teeth, Hochstetter hurriedly retreated, tossing a warning over his shoulder as he went. "You had better be right, Klink, or it won't be just the prisoners I cart away!"

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**Hammelburg: **

Morgan's hands, warmed as his breath saturated his gloves. He was trying to keep his white wisps of exhaled air from spiraling upward in the morning light, and being seen by the guards marching their patrols around his house. Timing their rounds, he gradually worked his way closer, eventually slipping through the cellar door.

The smell of damp earth and the tugging of the occasional spider web in his hair accompanied him as he inched his way down the wooden steps. The hollow sound of the stairs, soon gave way to a dull thud as he stepped onto the earthen basement floor and began working his way around the many obstacles scattered about the cellar.

How many times had he traveled this route secretly avoiding being seen by his parents and brothers? His mind was suddenly flooded with memories that only served to deepen his despair, until, as he reached a shelf behind the stairs, his despair was replaced by a transient feeling of warmth and safety.

This had been his secret hiding place since he was six years old, a place to put treasures where no one would find them. Things like a tin of Christmas candy he didn't want to share with his brothers, the pocket knife his grandfather secretly gave him when he was ten, and—he paused as his hand ran over a bundle of paper—love letters from…someone he would never see again. He dropped another level into his agony. Finally, his hand wrapped around the item he had come for, and he pulled it out into the light of the cellar window. With a click the clip fell into his waiting hand and, after checking that it was filled, he slammed it back into his gun. His life was unalterably and forever changed. His father was dead and the likelihood that the Nazis would let his brothers live was…

Morgan wiped at the dampness on his cheek. There was no way to warn them in time. Would they even be told why they were being executed? _I'm sure they will tell them father was a traitor. And they may even try to get information from them before they… _

Filled with anger, Morgan turned and ran up the stairs. He would wait. Soon the Gestapo would be back to go through the house in the daylight, hoping to find what they may have missed last night._ I can't stop the Nazis… maybe no one can, but I can make the deaths of my father and brothers felt. _

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Klink watched the front gate close. He had put himself in jeopardy by lying to the Gestapo, and if Hochstetter found out… He flicked his riding crop under his arm and lowering his head into the wind, marched forward. It was time for answers. Grabbing the knob on the door to the medical hut, he entered without slowing down, startling the two medics, Wilson and Branson, standing closest to Hogan's bed. The third medic, Anderson, wiggled in his cot, not jumping to his feet until he heard the sound of the Kommandant's voice.

"How is he?" Klink's eyes went to Hogan and his demeanor softened… for the moment.

Swallowing, Wilson tensed. Interaction with the Kommandant always put him on his guard; it only happened when the Kommandant couldn't go directly to the Colonel and was already on edge.

"No real damage was done by Major Hochstetter, Kommandant," Wilson quickly answered.

"That is not what I asked, Sergeant." _With the Gestapo breathing down my neck I need more details! _Klink walked around to the left side of Hogan's bed and raised the blanket, exposing Hogan's wounded arm and side. "I asked how Colonel Hogan is doing. It is the same question my Oberfeldwebel asked earlier. You did not give him a straight answer. There was obviously more you could have told him!" Lowering the blanket back over Hogan, Klink watched his wounded prisoner for a moment. He hadn't expected to find Colonel Hogan so completely unresponsive. He had been counting on his senior prisoner to have some ideas on what to tell General Burkhalter. Now he would have to decide for himself. Should he tell him what he told Hochstetter or the truth, which was elusive at the moment? Klink looked back at Sergeant Wilson.

"Now you will tell me _all_ about Colonel Hogan's condition, or I will have you placed in the cooler, which will do neither you nor Colonel Hogan any good."

"No, sir… I mean yes, Kommandant…" Wilson stalled, trying to gather his thoughts. _Don't volunteer any information. Say as little as he'll let you get by with. _ "What… what would you like to know?"

Klink's face reddened and he marched around the bed, standing practically nose to nose with the medic. "Let's start with how many times Colonel Hogan was shot?"

Wilson blinked, realizing Klink was justified in his anger. "Two, sir…"

"_Yes_, I saw the _two _at the same time Major Hochstetter saw them! There are no more?" Klink questioned.

"Yes, sir.…I mean no, sir." Wilson hesitated, "Not if you're just counting actual penetration."

Now it was Klink's turn to blink. "What do you mean, if I'm just counting _penetration_? What are you _not_ telling me?"

Wilson briefly looked away before again meeting Klink's eyes. "There was a graze over his left shoulder."

Turning and, looking down at Hogan, Klink took a step toward the cot, thinking he would see the third wound for himself, but then stopped, afraid of what else he may find. Turning back to the medic he asked, "Are there other wounds or is that all?"

"Don't you think that's enough?" Wilson asked sarcastically

"_Insolence!_" Klink shouted, wringing the end of the riding crop still held clutched under his arm, he closed the distance between himself and the medic. If Klink's nervous pacing, had not been enough to warn Wilson he was on dangerous ground, Klink was about to make it crystal clear. "Sergeant, my patience is running thin, I'm warning you for the last time…"

"I'm sorry Kommandant." Breaking military form, Wilson slouched and ran his hand through his hair. "It's been a stressful night, as I'm sure you will agree. "Colonel Hogan has no other wounds."

Klink nodded. "That's better."

A thought occurred to Klink, and though he hated to ask, he knew he had to. "I would like to see Colonel Hogan's shirt."

"His shirt, sir?" Branson asked.

"Yes, you know, the shirt he was wearing when he was shot!" Klink fired back._ If I'm going to be defending myself against Hochstetter, I need to see that the holes in the shirt correspond with the holes in Hogan. _

"I'm sorry, sir, we threw it into the stove. It was full of holes and stained beyond repair. We didn't know you would—"

"You burned it?" Klink asked.

"Yes, sir. We didn't think—"

Klink walked to the foot of the bed thinking out loud. "Maybe it's just as well." _There will be no physical evidence for Hochstetter to manipulate against me. _The panic driving Klink lessened as he made his decision. _I will tell General Burkhalter, what I told Major Hochstetter, Colonel Hogan was hit by warning shots shortly after the first explosion. _Klink's thoughts shifted asHogan moaned, moving restlessly under the cover.

"Will he survive?"

_Pause. _

Klink looked at Wilson and repeated his question, "Will he survive, _Sergeant_?"

"He lost a lot of blood, Kommandant, but no major organs were hit. Colonel Hogan's fighting a fever, either due to infection, the blood transfusions, or both. If his body can fight off the fever, he has a good chance of recovering," Wilson answered.

Klink looked back at Hogan and, sitting down in the chair next to the bed, reached out, gently turning Hogan's face toward him.

Wilson frowned and took a step toward Klink.

"What are you doing?" Branson asked, putting a hand on Wilson's arm to stop him.

Wilson halted, but stood poised ready to intercede on Hogan's behalf if necessary.

Klink's eyes deepened in concern. "Colonel Hogan, can you hear me?" he asked, softly. _Now, is when you need to use your dogged determination, Colonel. _Why did it matter to him? Could it be because he felt his chances of surviving this war were better if Hogan was at his side, enemy or not?

Hogan, eyes closed, frowned, but did not speak.

The heat from Hogan's body warmed Klink's hands. _Fever_. It was a familiar foe. Infections and disease plagued soldiers in the Great War, too, just as it had all armies since the beginning of time. Klink studied Hogan's face, _No perspiration, that's not good_. _No sweat—no cooling_. Without thinking, Klink reached into the pan of water sitting next to the bed, and rung out a cloth, laying it on Hogan's forehead. Time melted away for Klink and his mind carried him back to another bedside vigil. Hogan's face was replaced, in Klink's mind, by the face of his friend and commander. How different would his life be now, if ...

Klink's eyes moistened as his thoughts became words. _I'm… "_sorry, Major_."_

Wilson and Branson exchanged looks. Major? What was Klink doing?

"Is there anything else, Kommandant?" Wilson asked, nervously trying to get the Kommandant to move away.

Klink, gradually becoming aware that he had been spoken to, cleared his throat. "No… I mean… yes. There's one more thing, Sergeant." Klink doubted he would get a straight answer, but he was asking anyway. "Are the wounds consistent with shots ricocheting?"

Wilson straightened, there it was _the_ question. "Why yes, sir! The slug I took out of the Colonel's arm was flattened from hitting something hard before embedding in his arm and it caused considerable damage." That much was true. "How else would Colonel Hogan have been shot?"

Klink looked at Wilson. "How else, indeed?" Walking toward the door Klink stopped and turned back. "Let me know if there is anything you need. And," Klink placed a cold stare onto his face in an attempt to hide any signs of caring. "keep me informed of Colonel Hogan's condition, so that I may include it in my reports."

The door closed and slapping a hand over his heart, Wilson, exhaled, "Yes, sir… as soon as I start breathing again!"

"Whew!" Anderson fell back into his cot. "I thought you were going to get a good reaming out when you mouthed off to him after he asked if there was anything more!"

Branson looked at the senior medic wide eyed and agreed. "Yeah, I thought you were on the way to the cooler for sure."

Wilson shook his head, "I shouldn't have antagonized him, but I'm frustrated. I have no idea exactly how much blood loss I'm dealing with, and I have no IV fluid to give…" Wilson suddenly stopped talking and looked directly at Anderson. "Go on back to bed. Branson will wake you in a couple of hours for your shift." Then, turning to Branson, he ordered, "Claude, you come with me, I just got an idea on how to get some fluids into our commanding officer."

Branson looked at Wilson for a minute before catching on. "Okay, but if he wakes up I'm telling him it was _your_ idea!"

"If he wakes up, I'll be glad to take the fall!"

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Morgan opening the door at the top of the stairs stepped into the kitchen and immediately felt a hand on his shoulder. Shaking with fear he turned and raised his gun to fire. A third hand shot out and wrenched the gun free from his grip before he had time to pull the trigger.

"What are you doing?" Lutz panted, shoving Morgan's shoulder. "You could've killed me!"

"What are _you_ doing following me?" Morgan asked grabbing at the gun.

Lutz yanked the weapon out of the boy's reach at the last second. "Shhh! Keep your voice down. Do you want those guards to hear us?" Lutz watched the top of a helmet skim past the kitchen window and pulled Morgan into the hallway out of sight and, he hoped, out of hearing.

"How'd you get in here, anyway?" Morgan asked.

Lutz pointed. "Back door. There are so many tracks in the yard one more set just blends in." Lutz gestured to the mess around them. "It looks like the Gestapo has gone through your house once already. They'll send a more experienced, elite, team back today, and most likely Hochstetter will be with them. Let's get out of here." Lutz grabbed Morgan's arm and met resistance.

"I'm staying. Give me back my gun!" Morgan held out his hand

"You can't stay here. It would be suicide!" Lutz stared at Morgan.

"There's nothing left. My brothers will be dead—or worse, before the days over. I can't…" Morgan held out his hand again. "Give me my gun. It's my choice. I will take as many of them with me as I can."

Lutz lifted his hand to put Morgan's gun in his pocket—and out of sight—and felt the dynamite.

"Morgan, if you do this you might as well put this gun to your mother's head and pull the trigger. I'm sure she hasn't had time to think about what may happen to her other two sons, but when she does, she's going to need you."

Morgan shook his head, "I…"

"Listen to me. I think we can…" Lutz pulled the blood stained bundle of dynamite out of his pocket, "…booby trap the door."

Morgan lowered his head. It wasn't just striking back at the enemy that he wanted; he wanted to end the guilt of not being able to save his brothers or father. It was his own survival causing him pain.

Sensing Morgan's guilt, Lutz turned the boy toward him and looked him in the eye. "Morgan your father and brothers wouldn't want you to throw your life away. Your survival, not a meaningless death, would be the greater retribution against the Gestapo."

Morgan's resolve finally gave out and, in his anguish, he buried his head on Lutz shoulder surrendering to his logic.

Lutz wrapped his arm over Morgan's shoulder to comfort him, while keeping his eyes and ears alert. After a moment he pulled Morgan's shoulders up. "We've got to hurry. They'll be coming back soon."

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	24. Chapter 24

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Thank you for being patient as I develop my writing skills.

With guidance from GSjessica I have expanded and (I hope you agree) improved on my POV in Chapter 24. Specifically the area beginning with "Kinch climbed the ladder".

And of course, as always, my thanks to LJ Groundwater, who patiently betas my stories and saves my readers from _punctuation purgatory_ and _random thoughts._

Chapter 24

Out of the Frying Pan…

Hogan made a weak, unconscious attempt to pull his head free of Wilson's hands. His healthy right arm was at his side, held in place by a blanket snugly tucked under his body.

Between his teeth and cheek a short piece of IV tubing attached to a large syringe filled with water gradually delivered the life-giving fluid.

"That's it, nice and slow; he'll swallow automatically," Wilson instructed Branson. "With his fever and blood loss, it's not as fast as I'd like, but it'll have to do until he's more coherent."

"When do you think that'll be?" Branson asked.

Wilson ran his hand over Hogan's forehead and face. _Still warm, but his fever seems to have stopped climbing. _Sliding his hand to Hogan's wrist, he took his pulse. "His pulse is fast which makes me think his blood volume is still low." _Which means less oxygen is being delivered throughout his body_. "His heart's working hard trying to keep him going. I'm hoping getting this water absorbed into his system will help get fluid into his blood and allow his pulse to slow down. If his kidneys shut down due to lack of blood, well…" Wilson looked at Branson, "Does that answer your question?"

Branson nodded, "Yeah, you don't know!"

_Ka Bloom! _

The sound of an early morning explosion brought both men to their feet.

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_Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock_!

Hegel jerked awake. "Yes? Who is it?" Looking at his watch he rubbed at his eyes, trying to make them focus.

"Major Hochstetter!"

With a lunge Hegel flew off the small couch in his office and, finger combing his hair, went to unlock his office door. Whatever else Hochstetter was, he was still Hegel's superior and not a man to have on your _wrong_ side.

Hochstetter barreled in. "Why is the door locked?"

"Major?" Hegel, still half asleep, briefly stumbled over his words, "I, um… I sent our experts back to the saboteur's house this morning to conduct a more thorough search, and was trying to get a few hours' sleep before we started interrogating your prisoners. Is something wrong?"

"_No—Yes! _Pacing to the middle of the room, Hochstetter whirled around. "Maybe!"

Hegel did not speak, but continued to look at his distraught superior until Hochstetter continued.

"When I took Klink's guards back to Stalag 13… well, I was just about to leave when Klink told me …" Hochstetter's voice deepened into an emphatic growl, "… about his senior prisoner."

Hegel's interest was piqued. "You mean the American, Colonel Hogan?"

"You, remember his name?" Hochstetter asked, frowning.

Hegel poured a couple of brandies and handed one to Hochstetter, who, hesitating, took it despite the early morning hour. "Why yes, he's the one you suspect of having knowledge of the sabotage activity occurring in the area around Hammelburg. Is he not?" _Come on, Major, everyone knows about your suspicions about Colonel Hogan. You've been trying to get __Berlin__ to turn him over to you almost since his capture. _

Hochstetter nodded, "Yes… he is… or was…now…"

Hegel swallowed his brandy with satisfaction. _Hochstetter has doubts! _

"Klink told me that Colonel Hogan was shot tonight." Hochstetter answered, while taking his cap off and laying it on Hegel's desk before thoughtfully sipping his brandy.

Hegel stared intently at Hochstetter, his heart about to beat out of his chest. It took every bit of his self control to keep from breaking into a full-faced grin at the implication of what that could mean. _You don't know it, Hochstetter, but that is music to my ears! _

Ignorant of Hegel's delight, Hochstetter continued, "The problem is… Klink swears Colonel Hogan was shot just after the first explosion tonight, which all but guarantees Hogan could not have been hiding in the woods with the man _you_ shot after that third act of sabotage. And there was no other exchange of gun fire throughout the entire night! So that eliminates Hogan from being there."

"I see your problem." _Very clearly—I created it! I hope I've filled you with enough doubt to send you looking elsewhere for "Papa Bear". But… _"Was he killed?" Hegel asked, suddenly feeling a touch of panic himself.

"He was alive when I saw him. But from the look of him..." Hegel watched as Hochstetter fanned his fingers into a satisfied fist, obviously the Major did not find the possibility of Hogan's death disappointing.

Hegel turned to set the decanter of brandy back on his desk. Hogan's death now would do him no good.There were questions that needed answered._ **Is** Hogan "Papa Bear" and Klink part of the conspiracy? Or is Klink telling the truth and the trail I followed tonight. leading in the direction of Stalag 13, more a contrivance of my own mind than a real occurrence? Or was the trail real and it just an unfortunate coincidence that this "Papa Bear", or his team, went in the direction of Stalag 13… Or—is Klink "Papa Bear"? _

Hochstetter paced, continuing to create possibilities. "Still, maybe this is all just part of an elaborate scheme by the American, to get me off of his trail."

_No, Major it is an elaborate scheme by **me**, to get you off of his trail. _Hegel tried to think of something to say that would make Hochstetter give up on his suspicions of Hogan. It would be much easier for him to continue to investigate the American Colonel if Hochstetter was not in his way. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long for assistance in his endeavor.

_Ka Bloom! _

Hochstetter and Hegel both raced to the window in time to see the tail end of the fireball as it exploded skyward and settled back down into an orange glow.

They staredin the direction of Herr Schiller's home, as sirens began to wail.

"Isn't that about where the baker's home is, or should I say was?" Hegel looked out the window as he added, "I guess from what you just told me, you can rule out Colonel Hogan on this, too!" A glint appeared in Hegel's eyes. _As for me, I'm not as certain. This would be just the sort of thing I would expect, especially if his men were trying to divert suspicion._

Hochstetter, looking wide eyed at Hegel, said nothing.

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Lutz grabbed Morgan's arm, "No, no! This way!"

Frowning, Morgan pointed ahead. "But this is the way back to Stalag 13."

"We can't go back there. The woods are full of soldiers. We were lucky to get past them the first time. And with this…" Lutz pointed back at the smoke rising into the air, "They'll be even more alert. Follow me; we'll go to my parent's farm."

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"Herr Kommandant!" Schultz rushed into Klink's office unannounced. There has been another explosion."

"Schultz! Don't you know better than to… Whaaat?" Klink had hoped he had been mistaken, that in his sleep-deprived state he had imagined the faint blast he had chosen to ignore. Now, standing, he following Schultz out into the compound and his eyes immediately saw the black smoke stretching across the morning sky.

He nodded and then glanced back toward the hospital building, and he began to feel better about the lie he told the Gestapo.

_Colonel Hogan couldn't have had anything to do with that! _Klink's feelings of guilt and doubt began to lessen. The odds Hogan had anything to do with the previous explosions seemed to be dispelled by this continued act of sabotage. "Let's see Hochstetter blame that on Hogan!"

"What did you say, Kommandant?" Schultz asked.

Klink turned without answering, and with a lighter step, marched back into his office.

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**--_Later that day_-- **

"Over and out" Kinch set the headset down on the table. Lutz had just radioed to say he and Morgan had made it safely to his parents' farm. Feeling Tiger's eyes on him, Kinch turned to face her. "After the Gestapo pulls out I'll get in touch with London and arrange for Morgan and his mother to be picked up. We'll reunite Mrs. Schiller with Morgan in route." Sighing, he added, "It's just good to know Lutz and Morgan made it back to Lutz's family's farm safely".

Tiger nodded. "Don't worry, Mrs. Schiller, Lutz will take good care of Morgan."

Morgan's mother nervously played with the ring on her left hand. Her eyes, red and tired, stared into space. "I don't understand why Morgan went back to the house. What could he have forgotten that could be worth risking being captured?"

Newkirk swiped his hat off his head and held it respectfully. "You can ask him that yourself, later, mum. The important thing is he's safe and so are you."

With tears in her eyes Mrs. Schiller offered a sincere, "Thank you." Looking around at the small group, she added, "Thank all of you."

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Kinch climbed the ladder leading to the infirmary, exited the tunnels, and cautiously approached the storeroom door hiding the tunnel entrance from the main part of the infirmary. Peering into the room beyond, he took a settling breath before going in to face the music.

"How is he?" Kinch stopped a few feet from Hogan's cot as Wilson turned and fixed him in place with a stare—and an accusation.

"It's about time!"

Swallowing, Kinch studied Hogan's still form. _Did I do the right thing? So far everything is working out with Hochstetter and the Gestapo. I just didn't expect you to look so… bad. _"Sorry, Joe." Kinch stopped himself with a cough, _Not a good start if I'm going to stay in control of this conversation. Get it together, Kinchloe. _Toughening his voice, he started again. "There was nothing else we could do. There wasn't time to tell you. By the time we got him back…"

"Back?" Wilson asked, reminding Kinch exactly how little the medic knew about the night's activities.

Kinch turned from Hogan's cot. Bringing his feet together to strengthen his stance, he held his guilt in check under the medic's glare. "Tiger radioed us that Lutz was missing, and the Colonel hadn't come back yet, either. By the time I found them and we covered our trail… Well, he was barely conscious when we got him back." Kinch flinched inwardly at the memory. The Colonel had always told him, "_Make your best decision and move forward._" Swallowing, Kinch decided, _Easier said than done_, _Colonel_.

Wilson straightened. "Covered your trail? What were you five doing tonight… no, don't tell me." Seeing the veins in the medic's neck jut out as he sucked in a mouthful of air, Kinch shifted his weight uncomfortably and Wilson continued. "It doesn't matter. But it would have been nice to know what I was dealing with. Like, for example, how long had he been _bleeding_ before I got him?"

_I wish I knew, __Wilson__, but at the time… keeping ahead of the Gestapo was the priority. _Keeping his voice level and unemotional, Kinch answered, "Lutz had a bandage on him when I got to them. The Colonel didn't appear to be bleeding then. But when we took the bandage off and dressed him, it started again." Kinch looked squarely at Wilson, "Carter put pressure on it…"

"Yes, I know! That's where I came in." Wilson interrupted. Nodding toward Hogan, he continued. "The Colonel's going to have to start including me in the loop. I need to be prepared. It cost us valuable time getting things ready after I got him back here."

"For security reasons, he keeps it on a strictly 'need to know' basis. You _know_ that, Wilson." Kinch's command composure secretly threatened to crumble under his own guilt as the medic took another lethal step toward him.

"And you don't think I fit into those criteria? Remember _that_ if we end up burying him, will ya?"

_Direct hit! _Kinch clenched his teeth, his throat tightened and his heart pounded in his chest. The terror that was privately consuming him sprang from Wilson's mouth like a cobra.

_No! Please, not because of my delaying…_ _It was necessary… I couldn't chance leading Hochstetter back here. You're the medic! Do something! _"You can't let him…" Kinch's demand was half out of his mouth before the ache in Wilson's eyes registered. _You're fighting your own demons, aren't you, __Wilson__. If the Colonel dies, you, like me, will always wonder if there was something you could have done differently that would have saved him. _

Kinch turned and paced back to Hogan's cot. _You're right, __Wilson__. It's unfair not to give you the opportunity to be prepared._ "We all have to follow orders." Kinch answered, as he stared at Hogan's shivering body. _But we don't have to be fools about it! _"I'll talk to him." Seconds later, his concentration was broken by a hand on his shoulder.

"_We'll_ talk to him!" Wilson growled.

Kinch paused and then nodded knowingly. They both had a stake in winning _this_ battle. "_We'll_ talk to him."

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"Water?"

Yanking his hand from Kinch's shoulder, Wilson snapped his head around to see if he was hearing things. Hogan, his eyes barely open, squirmed under the covers. "I'll be a…" Wilson exclaimed under his breath. Leaving Kinch, he grabbed the flashlight from the bedside table, and kneeling next to Hogan's bed, attempted to examine his patient's eyes. "So, you finally decided to wake up!"

"Where…" Hogan asked, trying to turn away from the light.

"Stalag 13, Colonel!" Kinch's excited voice bounced over Wilson's shoulder.

"You fighting me is not helping! Stop trying to turn away! This will just take a second. Kinch, don't just stand there; help me out here," Wilson ordered. "Hold his head still."

Kinch laid one hand against Hogan's left cheek, keeping his face pointed toward Wilson, while his other hand restrained the Colonel's right arm, and he continued to explain. "You took a couple of bullets last night, sir."

The frown on Hogan's face, gave Wilson ample warning of what was coming. "Stop… Wilson," Hogan panted, "Too… bright."

"I'll _stop_ when I'm _done,_" Wilson argued as the light found its target. _There! That's what I wanted to see. Pupils equal and reactive. _"And I'm done. _Thank you!_" Wilson finished sarcastically. _You don't look like you have any brain damage._ Setting the light aside, Wilson raised Hogan's head and placed a cup filled with water to his lips. "Not too fast, sir. First I can't get you to drink and then you want to swallow the whole cup in one gulp!" _And I'm half tempted to let you. _

"Mmm…" Hogan moaned before gritting his teeth and closing his eyes.

Wilson pulled the cup away and grimaced. "Slow easy breaths, Colonel. That's it."

"How long?" Hogan asked through clenched teeth.

Wilson watched as another wave of pain hit and Hogan bit his lower lip. "Sorry you had to wake up in this condition, Colonel, but I couldn't give you anything until you came around. I didn't want to mask your symptoms." Standing, Wilson crossed to the medicine cabinet. "I can give you something to take the edge off your pain now."

"I asked, how long—ugh," Hogan groaned. "… how long have I been out?"

"Seventeen hours," Wilson called from across the room while inserting a syringe into a vial of morphine.

"Seventeen… Gestapo?" Shoving at the covers, Hogan attempted to slide his legs to the side of the bed.

The movement caught Wilson's eye and he turned to intercede, but abruptly stopped as Kinch sat down in the chair next to Hogan's cot and pulled the covers back up while explaining, "Yes, sir, they've been here and gone. We convinced Klink that stray bullets from his guards hit you. Hochstetter fell for it and left."

Wilson, returning with the syringe, paused as Kinch looked intently at Hogan and asked, "What happened out there, Colonel?"

Shaking his head, Wilson interrupted, "Later. Now stop talking to him. He needs to rest. He's got some serious healing to do." Swiping Hogan's arm with the alcohol-soaked cotton wad, Wilson quickly delivered the morphine before either man could protest. Not that their protests would matter. Seeing the frowns, he continued, "This is my territory. I give the orders here!"

Hogan pursed his lips to respond and ended in another moan. Closing his eyes to ride out the wave of agony, perspiration broke out on his forehead and began running down the side of his face.

"You're sweating. Now there's a welcome sight!" Wilson smiled with relief and began wringing out a cool cloth to place on Hogan's forehead. "It looks like your fever's breaking."

"My head's… pounding." Hogan managed to whisper and then added with a groan, "Side… aches."

"The morphine will help soon." Wilson assured sympathetically as Hogan, succumbed to the drug's effect. _This is one time when your stubbornness won't be enough. The morphine's clouding your thinking. That was the whole idea. Don't fight it! _

Wilson turned to Kinch. "That's enough for today. You'll have to leave." The Sergeant intently watched as his commanding officer struggled to stay awake and, reaching out, laid his hand on top of Hogan's. "Rest, Colonel. Don't worry. Klink thinks you were hit by ricochets from warning shots fired when we…"

Seeing Hogan's eyes lose their focus, Wilson again laid his hand on Kinch's shoulder. "He's not hearing us anymore, Kinch."

Kinch nodded and finished with "Just remember you were shot here in camp and don't answer any questions about how or when."

Wilson, touched by Kinch's gentleness, gave the Sergeant's shoulder a comforting squeeze while silently watching Hogan, confused and exhausted, gradually drift back to sleep.

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--_Two Days Later_--

"Sergeant Williams, U.S. Army Air Corps." Klink, sitting at his desk, read the dossier accompanying his newest prisoner. "Welcome to the toughest POW camp in all of Germany! For you the war is over," Klink crowed.

Kinch sat in Hogan's spot listening as Newkirk, Carter, and LeBeau poked fun at Klink's indoctrination speech.

"Blimey, I bet Klink spouts that bloody line in his sleep!" Newkirk wisecracked.

"You want me to check the new guy out, Kinch?" Carter offered.

"Sure Carter, but take Newkirk with you?" Kinch ordered. "Two heads are better than one."

"Oui," LeBeau, agreed. "You want me to go, too, Kinch?"

Kinch looked at his watch. "You'd better take that broth you've been preparing over to the Colonel, before Wilson comes looking for you."

"I still don't see why Wilson won't let anybody but you and LeBeau in to see the Colonel," Carter complained.

" Wilson just wants to make sure the Colonel's rested and healing well, before we expose him to any _bugs_ that may be going around the camp," Kinch answered and then chuckled. "I don't think it'll be much longer. The Colonel's already threatening to break all three medics down to the rank of Private. If he gets much more strength back, Wilson's going to need us in there just to help keep the Colonel in his cot!"

Still not appeased, Carter asked, "Then why did Wilson let Tiger see him, before she left to take Mrs. Schiller to meet up with Morgan and Lutz?"

"Tiger didn't ask, Carter, she just dressed in fatigues and went up the ladder. Blimey, as tough as Wilson is… he met his match in her!" Newkirk smiled. "I wish I could have seen that confrontation!"

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--_One week later in Barracks Two_--

Entering the barracks from the infirmary, Kinch motioned LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk to the table. "I just left the Colonel. I told him we needed one more person to carry out London's orders and he left it up to us to decide about the new guy, Sergeant Williams." Kinch looked at the men in front of him.

"Well, Williams sure was helpful putting these explosives together. He knows what he's doing, boy. I think he can handle it."

"Thanks, Carter; it makes me feel a whole lot better knowing you approve of him," Kinch smiled, "But how about you Newkirk?"

"He seems right enough and London did clear him… I guess he'll do." Newkirk looked to LeBeau. "Louis?"

"Oui, he even liked my Bouillabaisse."

"Oh, well then, there you have it, Kinch," Newkirk answered sarcastically. "The bouillabaisse clinches it."

Kinch nodded. "Okay, Williams it is."

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--_Three days later at the camp hospital_--

"Colonel, you know our agreement. I'm letting you sit in that chair, but if you don't fulfill your part of the bargain, you'll spend the next two days flat on your back. What'll it be?"

Hogan frowned but kept his ever-sharp tongue quiet. It had already gotten him into several losing battles with Wilson, and he didn't want to lose what little ground he had gained.

Turning, Wilson pretended to be busy, all the while watching Hogan's progress. The senior medic, to prove his point, had purposely placed the table holding the water Hogan was to drink on Hogan's left side. It was a test. And the medic knew it was one Hogan did not want to fail. Because if he did, Wilson had made it quite clear he would propel him back into bed.

Slowly reaching out, Hogan carefully raised the cup toward his lips, pausing as a slight tremor shook his arm, splashing a bit of water onto the back of his hand. Staring intently at his left hand, he forced it to steady and continued to raise his arm, placing the cup to his lips. The stubborn brown eyes sought out the bossy medic, flashing a victory glare.

_Good job, Colonel! _Wilson gladly conceded. _You proved your point. We'll start getting you up for an hour a day and see how you... _The sudden opening of the door interrupted Wilson's thoughts and sent him to Hogan's side as the Colonel's coconspirators entered the room. Not completely certain Hogan's strength would hold up long enough to get the glass back to the table, Wilson watched and waited. Hogan managed to get the cup half way down before another spasm shook his arm forcing him to clench his teeth in an effort to keep from crying out. _That's good enough, Colonel, _Wilson silently praised, as he reached out relieving Hogan of his burden, and any potential embarrassment, as Hogan's men, smiling broadly, surrounded him.

"Good to see you up, _gov'nor," _Newkirk smirked approvingly.

Carter beamed, "Yeah, Colonel, you must be feeling a lot better!"

Wilson set the cup back on the table, keenly aware of Kinch's watchful gaze. The Sergeant could see that his commanding officer was not as strong as he was pretending to be.

"I'll fix you something special for lunch today, _Colonel_," LeBeau assured, rubbing his hands together.

"We can't stay long, Colonel, we just thought you'd like to know, Sergeant Williams is being transferred out of camp," Kinch announced.

"The new guy? I haven't even had a chance to meet him. Why is he being transferred out?" Hogan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as he looked to Kinch for an answer.

"Klink said it's just a routine rebalancing of prison camp prisoners."

Hogan nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, they do that once in awhile, especially if a camp has had…" Hogan didn't finish. A readjustment generally came if a POW camp had had an epidemic sweep through. "Well, they just do that once in a while."

"I can bring him over if you want to meet him, Colonel." Kinch offered.

Hogan thought for a moment. "No, I guess there's no need. You were his acting CO. You can do the good byes."

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered as Wilson, standing behind Hogan, cleared his throat and nodded toward the door. "Come on you guys, let's let the Colonel rest."

Hogan frowned up at Wilson, fully aware of the message he had sent to Kinch. The door had barely closed when Hogan blurted, "You know, Wilson, someday you're going to make a wonderful mother!"

Undaunted, Wilson grinned and began helping Hogan back to bed.

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--_Next Day_—

The truck carrying Sergeant Williams away from Stalag 13 pulled up in front of Gestapo headquarters and stopped. The guard riding in the back with the _prisoner_, immediately lowered the tailgate and turned, saluting and snapping to attention. _Williams_ stepped forward, tugged at his freshly donned Gestapo uniform, and returned the salute.


	25. Chapter 25

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 25

Ours Is Not To Reason Why…

_Running an Underground organization… Assists Allied prisoners to escape… Has a network of tunnels under Stalag 13… Klink's office is wired… A cache of uniforms… Radio contact with London_…

Hegel read through the report from _Leutnant_ _Kroger, _alias Sergeant Williams for the fifth time and shook his head. _All this right under Klink's nose and the fool has no idea! The Fatherland will soon be well rid of him, **and** this American Colonel. _

Swinging his legs up onto his desk, Hegel took a mouthful of what had become his favorite reward for a job well done, cognac. The brandy rolled over his tongue and slid smoothly and effortlessly down his throat, radiating warmth as it went. Hegel leaned back in his chair.

_All that remains is to decide how to expose this American Colonel. I could present my information to Himmler… Mmm, but then he would present it to the Fuhrer as his discovery… No, this is too big for that…_

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Come in," Hegel slid his feet to the floor. "Ah, Myra, do you have Leutnant Kroger's transfer papers ready?"

Lovely long legs glided across the room, depositing the blond secretary at Hegel's side.

"I do, Herr Major. All I need is your signature."

Picking up his pen Hegel smiled. "Myra, darling, what would I ever do without you?"

"For one thing, your nights would be a lot… colder." The answer playfully escaped from between her ruby lips, prompting a glance from Hegel.

_Oh, you want to play a little cat and mouse. _Reaching up, he pulled Myra onto his lap and stole a kiss. _Just so you know who the mouse is._

"When are you going to put a diamond on my finger?" she purred in deviance, waving her left hand under his nose.

"Myra," Hegel teased. "is a diamond all that important when we have each other?" Hegel pursed his lips as Myra gently traced their outline with her finger.

"Don't you want to make a respectable woman out of me?" Pouting, she stood and picked up the transfer papers. Then, swaying her hips seductively, she retreated to the door.

Hegel smiled appreciatively and promised, "I'll take you someplace nice to eat tonight. Surely that will make you happy."

Looking back over her shoulder, she teased. "I guess it will have to do… _for now_."

Hegel stared at the closed door. _It will have to do, period. You're fun, Myra, but that is as far as it goes. _He poured himself another brandy and smirked. _What is it with women? You take them out a few times and they think you want to marry them. A diamond indeed… _

Hegel stopped, riveted in place as an idea formed in the cold calculating recesses of his mind. _Diamonds?_ _Yes… diamonds! __Not traceable. Small enough to smuggle out of the country. _The smirk changed to a full-fledged grin. _Yes, that's it! _

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Hogan curled the fingers of his left hand inward, forcing the pliable clay in his palm to ooze out between his knuckles. This _ridiculous _exercise was causing the muscle on the back of his arm that had been so badly torn by the misshapen ricocheting bullet, to burn with the effort. _This is Wilson_'_s idea of therapy?_ A sudden sharp pinch in his upper arm added a few more beads of perspiration to his already damp forehead.

"Ugh." The grunt slipped out before Hogan could swallow it and he shot a quick glance in Wilson's direction, hoping the medic hadn't heard him. Wilson did not turn around. Relieved, Hogan frowned and glared at Wilson's back. The morning's conversation—make that _confrontation_—played back through Hogan's mind, sending a rush of adrenalin pumping through his veins. Wilson and Kinch had both questioned his decision to exclude the medical team from knowing about their missions. _I probably shouldn't have told Wilson_ _that if he was told too much he would inevitably overstep his bounds and try to influence my decisions. _Since then, conversation between the two men had been… minimal.

Hogan eyed the ball of clay suspiciously. _If this is what it takes to get me released from here and back in command, I'll do it twenty-four seven… but… _"Are you sure this is going to put strength back in my arm, or is this just your sadistic way of getting even?"

Again looking at Wilson's back, Hogan could tell he had hit a _nerve._ The medic straightened slightly, as the pencil in his hand stopped moving. Without turning around, Wilson's irritated voice answered, "Sorry, Colonel, that kind of information is on a strictly '_need to know _basis'If I tell you too much, you may try to use it to give medical advice."

Hearing a slightly different version of his own words thrown back at him raised the hackles on Hogan's neck. More clay squeezed out between taunt knuckles as his left hand formed a fist_. Stubborn medic! How do I make you understand? I won't put more people at risk than absolutely necessary. The majority of the time our assignments have gone off without a hitch. But if… or when… that should change and they catch us… _

Hogan's stomach knotted as he acknowledged how close they had come to living that possibility.

_This whole incident could have very easily ended differently._ _It was only by a stroke of luck that my men were able to concoct a story plausible enough to allow us to stay in camp. If the guards hadn't been shooting at shadows, in reaction to the explosions and the decreased manpower in camp, the ruse of my getting shot by ricocheting bullets couldn't have happened. By all rights, my men should have abandoned me and headed for England._

Hogan held that thought for a moment, unable to decide whether to congratulate the men on their ingenuity or reprimand them for taking the risk. His head began to throb, reminding him he wasn't as healed as he wanted to be. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes to regroup. _I'll decide later. Anyway, the odds of that ever happening again are… nil. So you see, Wilson_… Hogan opened his eyes and focused on Wilson's back. "…_you don't need to know the "what" and "when" about our missions._ _You just need to **follow** orders! But until I can find a way to get through this—wall—you've put up, you're not going to hear a word I say. _

Tiredly looking at the clay in his fist, his inherent Irish temper flared again. _How do I get you to listen to me? What would make you put your anger aside long enough to hear me out? _Hogan frowned. This was a tactical problem—_his specialty_!

The wheels started turning in his head. Now that he had direction, he began to plot. _How do you reach a medic… a healer? _The frown disintegrated as the answer materialized. _You draw them out_ _with a diversion. _A familiar smile eased onto Hogan's face, followed by a dab of renewed energy.

_Fine, Wilson!_ _You've ordered me to exercise my left arm for thirty minutes. I'll **show** you how to follow orders!_

Balling the clay back into his left hand Hogan painfully and quickly worked the clay around in his fist, faster and faster, until the burning in his upper arm had become a raging fire and every ounce of his strength went to keeping his left hand going.

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Wilson cocked his head as the effort being exerted on the opposite side of the room played over his shoulder and into his ears. _He's breathing heavy. _Wilson looked at his watch. _I'll give him fifteen minutes. That should wear him out enough that he'll be ready to get back to bed and rest. _Wilson's smug smile faded as the morning's confrontation played back through his head. His and Kinch's effort to talk some _sense_ into the Colonel had started out civilly enough, but soon digressed. After the Colonel had said his orders stood… things started getting out of hand, and both sides withdrew to their respective _corners_—the Colonel firm in his decision, and Wilson and Kinch still wanting to debate.

_Stubborn, bull-headed… _Putting the supplies he had just inventoried back on the shelf, Wilson crunched down on the pencil he held between his teeth. _Accusing **me** of insubordination! I was not being insubordinate. I was simply questioning his… health! I have that right! _Wilson flinched at himself. _Well—I do! And with his kind of thinking… his sanity **is** in question! _Wilson sighed. _And contrary to popular opinion, I did **not** overstep my authority! I… _

A sharp gasp cut through the inner turmoil going on in Wilson's head and he turned to look at what the Colonel was up to… _this time!_ Seeing the sweat pouring down Hogan's red face, concern for his patient overcame his anger and he bounded across the room breaking his silence.

"What are you trying to do?" Wilson's hand shot out, pinning Hogan's left forearm to the table in front of him. Swiping the warm ball of clay out of the Colonel's fist, Wilson watched as a red stain wound its way around to the front of the dressing on Hogan's upper left arm. "Couldn't you feel that?"

Hogan looked into Wilson's face and panted, "I was following orders!"

Wilson's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and shoved the table in front of Hogan out of his way while pulling his obstinate patient to his feet. "Come on. You're going back to bed!"

The medic met no resistance as he assisted Hogan to lie down, which only served to tell him what he already knew; Hogan was exhausted. His body was still working to replace the blood he had lost. "Do you know how hard I've worked to get your body to produce those red blood cells?" Wilson asked his hand busily worked at unwrapping the bloody dressing. Nimble fingers examined the edges of the wound and soon found the source of the leak. "Why didn't you stop? It had to be hurting!" Wilson's anger pounded through his feet as he crossed the floor to get a fresh dressing.

"_Following_ _orders_ is painful sometimes!" Hogan paused to breathe. "But orders are given for a reason."

Wilson felt his face flush. He had heard another version of those same words earlier that morning. _So that's what this is about! _Placing some cotton balls in a metal basin, Wilson doused them with alcohol. Then grabbing the rest of his supplies, he marched back to Hogan, sat down, and slowly lifted the Colonel's left wrist, gently placing it on the pillow over his head, exposing the bloody wound. Using a gauze sponge, Wilson carefully began absorbing the blood that was obscuring his view. _Well, it's not as bad as I feared. _Sagging slightly with relief, Wilson continued to probe. _There's just a small area in the center where the bullet came to rest that hasn't completely granulated in yet. His bullheadedness just caused it to pull apart a little._

Wilson pulled the basin closer and warned as he picked up one of the alcohol-soaked cotton balls, "This is going to sting." Passing it over the raw opening of the wound there was a sharp intake of air from his patient.

"_Ugh_." Hogan's groan was immediately followed by an attempt to pull his arm down.

"Don't move!" Wilson caught Hogan's elbow and placed it back over his head. "That's an **order**—sir**." **Wilson chose his next sentence carefullyIt was dangerously similar to one that was aimed at him earlier that morning. "_It's for your own good_**." **Wilson, undaunted by Hogan's glare, sprinkled a generous amount of sulfa over the oozing hole and began wrapping a clean pressure-dressing over it. _You need to rest. This took a lot out of you. But far be it from me to try and talk any sense into you, _Wilson declared to himself and silently prepared to return to his vow of silence.

"**I** can follow orders, Sergeant," Hogan grunted, taking in another sharp breath. "Take a lesson!"

_All right! That's it! _Wilson initiated firm eye contact and felt his gut clench as he prepared for battle. "I _follow_ orders, too, sir! _Rational_, orders, that is!"

"Watch it, Sergeant!" a shaky voice ordered and then, as if wanting a confrontation, added, "You're dangerously close to stepping over the line here!"

_Stepping over the line? Do you realize how close I came to losing you? Another thirty seconds… a minute… if I hadn't gotten that initial blood transfusion going on the first try… that would have been it for you! _Feeling the volcano rising within, Wilson inhaled, reducing his angry eruption to a lava-like flow of emotions barely contained behind his closed eyes. _Decorum—Joe! One, two, three… don't lose your head. _

Like steam escaping through fissures, Wilson's slowly let his breath out and continued counting. _Four, five, six… Or your rank. _Opening his eyes he saw Hogan, his face damp from the effort he was exerting, staring back at him. _You can't go head to head with your commanding officer… seven, eight, nine… _

"I'm waiting, Sergeant. You look like you have something you want to say."

Wilson hesitated, fighting against his better judgment as a healer and his fear of being caught unprepared like this again. _I should let you rest_, _but this needs to be said. Or someday I'm going to be letting you 'Rest in Peace'._

"Yes, sir, I do! It's the same thing Kinch and I said earlier." Wilson registered Hogan's eyes narrowing slightly and continued. "I understand where you're coming from, Colonel, but… I have a stake in these men, too. And if they come back injured…"

"You can't let friendship…" Hogan began.

Angry, Wilson bellowed, "It's not friendship!" and then, wavered. "Well, it's not entirely friendship." The admission diffused some of the fury whirling inside the medics head and he lowered his voice, continuing, somewhat, more calmly, "It's self preservation and the welfare of the entire camp. And contrary to popular opinion, I do know it takes all five of you and … yes, sometimes even a few extras, to carry out London's orders. I'm also very aware that you are trying to keep the rest of us as safe as possible. But our odds of staying safe are greatly increased if the five of you remain intact. And my best chance of making sure that happens is if I can be prepared." Wilson looked down. There, he had finally said what had gotten lost in emotions that morning.

"Can I put my arm down now?" Hogan's calm question caught Wilson off guard. Blinking, he reached out helping to lower the weakened arm to the bed, and then waited for the boom. But it didn't come. Instead, Hogan pulled himself up into a sitting position and, leaning back against the wall, continued in a steady, though slightly weaker, voice.

"You're wrong, Wilson. And if you hadn't made me lightheaded with that morphine this morning, I would have been able to think clearly enough to explain myself, instead of just _demanding_ you follow orders and dismissing you and Kinch." Hogan took in a breath and tiredly rubbed his forehead. "I'm not just trying to keep the rest of the men in camp safe by keeping our missions on a need to know basis. I'm trying to keep our operation intact so we can help the rest of the Allied forces, and the Underground, win this war and protect the innocents on both sides who will be affected if this madman isn't stopped." Hogan slid down the wall and let his head drop back on the pillow. "If just one man slips under interrogation, it's all over. And not just for us, but for all those working with us, too. It's too big a chance, and an unnecessary risk to take."

Wilson felt a bit lightheaded himself as he digested the Colonel's words. He ate, slept, cried—lived with these men. His focus had been on caring for the occasional injury and trying to prevent the spread of diseases that may cause an epidemic to sweep through the camp. The men and the life they had etched out behind the barbed wire surrounding them had become his world. The bigger picture had been relegated to the back of his mind. It was out of reach. Oh, he knew it was there, it's just that he no longer felt a part of it. But now, the Colonel had dusted off their reason for being here in the middle of Germany. They were still soldiers, and very much a part of this war. And that meant people could get hurt and… maybe even die.

_When is this lousy war going to end?_ _And when are all its power-hungry, greedy, evil constituents responsible for me not being in control of my life going to crawl back under their rocks?_ Wilson watched Hogan gingerly place his right hand over the new dressing on his left arm and draw it closer to his side. _The man has been through hell and back several times and still he fights._ _No wonder the brass keeps putting you in command. First it was the 504th and now it's… a mixed group of POW's who don't know what they'd do without you. _

Wilson, still sitting next to Hogan, leaned over and drew the blanket up. "Okay, Colonel, you've finally got it through my thick head. What is going on outside the fence is larger than all of us, and I'll try not to let that slip again. But as a medic whose job it is to save lives, I can't promise I won't be angry the next time somebody gets injured and I have to try and save them when I'm slow off the starting line and have a little bit of nothing for supplies."

Hogan smiled and, closing his eyes, shifted lower in his cot, ready to drift off to sleep. "Nobody ever holds that against you, Wilson."

Wilson nodded to himself. _I know that. But it's a small consolation when you're standing over a grave._

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_**--One week later-- **_

"Major Hochstetter has finished his investigation." Myra placed the report on Hegel's desk.

The Major picked it up and thumbed through it. Hochstetter had targeted and arrested two more townspeople when he had been unable to find the baker's wife and youngest son. _I guess we know why they couldn't be found, don't we "Papa Bear"? _Hegel smiled.

"What are you smiling at? Did you read something funny in that report?" Myra asked.

Hegel looked up. He had not shared Leutnant Kroger's report with Myra—yet. _I believe it's time we have a talk, my dear. _Hegel was ready to get started on the next phase of his plan.

"Myra, darling, you remember Leutnant Kroger…"

"Oh! I almost forgot." Myra jumped as if remembering something urgent and left, returning a moment later with a letter. "This came for you, today." She handed the envelope to Hegel. "The Leutnant was killed in action. I still don't understand why he wanted to go and fight on the Eastern Front. He was serving the Fatherland right here."

Hegel's eyes widened at the news and then settled into a contended gleam. "Leutnant Kroger was a very patriotic young man." _With a wife and child he wanted to protect. _Hegel smiled as he remembered how he used their safety to manipulate the young Leutnant. _One more loose end tied up._

Hegel stood, walked around the desk, and pulled Myra into his arms. "Myra, remember when you asked me for a diamond?"

Myra draped her arms around Hegel's neck and smiled demurely. "Is this a proposal?"

Hegel grinned. "Better than that. How would you like a handful of diamonds?"

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	26. Chapter 26

Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 26

Be Careful What You Wish For

**_--Stalag Thirteen - _** **_Camp_****** **_Hospital_****_— _**

****

_I should have known! _Hogan fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

_Hochstetter pulling those guards out of Stalag 13 should have alerted me. I should have seen that as a trap. Or at least have considered that possibility. Idiot! Another slip-up like that and it may not be just you that suffers… _

Hogan scowled and, pulling his left hand away from his shirt, flexed his fingers.

_They're still stiff and numb. That could be a problem on a mission. _

Random memories had been haunting his dreams for the past several nights, though not always accurately. Still, even with the distortions, he was beginning to piece the night he was shot together. And it wasn't making a lot of sense.

_Why did Hochstetter have his men fire into the woods if he didn't know I was there? And if he knew I was there, why didn't he come and get me? There has to be an explanation. It's not adding up! _

Hogan's right hand sought out the back of his neck and kneaded at the knot of tension that seemed to have taken up residence there.

_So now what? You want to cower in your nice safe prison camp? There's still a war to fight. Get over it. Everything turned out okay. _

_No—not everything. _Hogan took in a deep breath and sighed. _Schiller's dead! _

Glancing over his shoulder, he met the medic's questioning look. "You sure you're up to this, Colonel? You're looking tired already."

"My…uh… hand's still a little stiff."

Hogan hoped that morsel of truth was enough to satisfy Wilson and not jeopardize his approaching _escape_ from the camp hospital. Trying to get anything past the medic was becoming a feat in itself. _Truth is—yes, I'm tired. Tired of not being able to come up with any answers! Lying here, trying to figure this whole mess out, is driving me crazy._ _At least Morgan and Mrs. Schiller made it to England where Hochstetter can't get at them… though it sounds like it was a little too late for Morgan's mother-- they say she can't even remember her own name. But what woman wouldn't go over the edge after losing a husband and two sons? If I hadn't gotten myself shot… maybe… I could've done something. I wish I knew what happened with Morgan's father. Kinch says Morgan told him the Gestapo Major that had been coming to his father's store picked his father up, and the next thing anybody knows is Schiller ended up dead at the factory. I also wish Morgan could remember the man's name! _

Hogan shook his head and snorted. _The poor kid. Shock can play havoc with memory. I ought to know. I don't even have a clear picture of what happened to me that night. The boy's really been through it. _

"Here!" Wilson called out as he shoved a baseball into Hogan's hands.

"What?" Hogan asked, confused.

"Thirty minutes, four times a day. Reaching and catching will work the stiffness out and help strengthen your left arm. It's one of my conditions for your _early_ release. And nobody but you and I will know it's therapy."

Hogan studied the baseball carefully. _Maybe this 'will' help. _Hogan nodded."Thanks, Wilson."

"But don't overdo it. You will notice I didn't give you any clay!"

Hogan's eyes snapped up.

Wilson turned away and continued talking. "Personally, I would have kept you here another week or two, but Klink wants you back in command and I couldn't think of anything I was doing for you that couldn't be done just as well in your own barracks. It's just that… _here_ I can see that you rest."

Hogan stiffened. Wilson continued talking.

"Klink assures me you will get plenty of time to take it easy. And that means plenty of _bunk _time. Do you catch my meaning, Colonel?"

Hogan looked away without answering and quickly felt a hand on his _good_ shoulder, as

Wilson's hot breath skimmed past his ear.

"I know where you live, sir."

The ensuing pause left Hogan uncomfortably looking for a way to avoid answering.

Wilson shrugged and, knowing he had the upper hand, continued. "Anyway, I think the final kicker for Klink was that stunt the men pulled after Klink had them chop firewood for the guards. They stuffed up the flues in the guards' barracks. Smoke was leaking out of the buildings from every crack! Our beloved Kommandant was livid." Grimacing, Wilson added, "Kinch got a good 'chewing out' over it."

Hogan grinned. "Little does Klink know it was _my_ idea to begin with."

"Oh yeah? Well, you owe Kinch for taking the heat for you," Wilson answered. "Nevertheless, it was shortly after that that Klink started pushing me for your release."

"It sounds like I owe Klink, too," Hogan mumbled.

Wilson's eyes narrowed as he recognized the insinuation and decided to ignore it. "I told Klink no early morning roll calls for a few weeks."

"You _what_? _Wilson_, I…"

"Don't bother thanking me…"

Turning to get his cap Hogan growled, "That's not what I had in mind. I don't want any special considerations from _Klink_!"

Wilson looked down to pick up Hogan's jacket and snapped back. "You were lucky this time, Colonel. Don't push yourself. God certainly had your back! With the amount of blood you lost, by all rights, you should have been dead!"

Hogan spun around to face Wilson, perspiration breaking out on his forehead, as another fragment of memory revealed itself.

–_I'll_ _take point; you've got my back.— _

His words came back to haunt him as his mind played out what followed. He was again climbing out of the creek bed, moving through the shadows. Then—bullets—all around him… and he was… bleeding, lying on his back… in the snow… looking into the night sky,grumbling outanother string of words with the last of his strength.

_—Next time **You** take point— _

Running his hand down his face Hogan stopped at his mouth and sheepishly looked up at the ceiling.

_Sorry, God… I… _

Wilson, seeing the abrupt change in Hogan, grabbed his shoulders, offering support "I think maybe we're rushing this. You're looking pale. Here," Wilson pulled up a chair. "Sit down!"

Hogan shook his head, "No, I'm fine. I'm just… eating a little crow."

Before Wilson could argue the point, the door opened and an icy blast of air swept in.

"Brrr. It's cold out there!" Schultz announced with a shiver. Then, looking past Hogan to Wilson, he asked, "How's he doing?"

"I was just assessing that," Wilson began.

Hogan stepped away from Wilson and straightened indignantly. "You can ask me, Schultz. I'm standing right here."

"Sorry, Colonel Hogan. I got used to asking Wilson. How are you feeling?"

"Fine—I'm fine." Hogan folded his arms in front of him and stifled a wince as his injured arm protested. "Did you come just to ask me that or was there something else on your mind?"

Schultz shuffled closer and in an apologetic voice announced, "The Kommandant wants to see you."

Wilson threw Hogan's coat down on the cot in protest. "Wait a minute, Schultz. Contrary to what Colonel Hogan says, he's not fine. I told Klink the Colonel still needs to rest, and that means going back to the barracks and lying down, not traipsing all over the compound. What does Klink want?"

"At ease, Sergeant!" Hogan ordered. "I've been lying around for three weeks!"

"Yes, sir, but if you think you can resume your full activities right off the bat, you'll end up relapsing and find yourself back in here! Losing that much blood puts a huge strain on your heart, your kidneys, your…"

"That will do, Sergeant!" Hogan watched as Wilson clenched his jaw shut.

Schultz's eyes darted between the two men, before they finally came to rest on the medic. "The Kommandant did not tell me. But if it helps, he is in his living quarters so I don't think it is anything serious," Schultz assured. "Maybe he just wants to brief Colonel Hogan on what's been going on in camp."

Hogan shifted his weight impatiently and grabbing his coat, headed for the door. "You seem to have trouble seeing me, Schultz. Maybe we should go outside where the light is better!"

Wilson grabbed one side of the brown bomber jacket and fanned it open, stopping Hogan in his tracks. "Put your coat on, Colonel," Wilson instructed.

Hogan looked at the opened jacket and then at Wilson's challenging look.

Wilson stared back. "Humor me. It's cold out. And until you step out of here, I still have the last word."

Hesitating, Hogan cringed. Just trying to work the buttons on his shirt was painful enough. Sliding his arm into that sleeve was not going to feel any better"It's not because it's cold out that you want me to put my jacket on."

Wilson agreed. "Let's see just how good that arm really is."

Hogan hesitated.

Nodding toward Schultz, Wilson continued. "Even Schultz knows this is my turf until you walk out that door."

How many times had he been reminded of _that_ over the last three weeks? Disgruntled at being trumped, Hogan sighed and plunged his left arm into the sleeve of the open jacket. A red flush immediately lit his face followed by a quick intake of air. Then, with great effort, he looked at Schultz and hissed, "Let's go see what Klink wants."

"Keep that in mind, Colonel," Wilson advised as he turned loose the jacket. "In addition to the blood loss, your muscle was badly torn. You're still healing and rest is essential."

Hogan grunted. Tears stung at his eyes and, keeping his back to the medic, he headed for the door. He wouldn't risk Wilson seeing the depth of his pain and stopping him, not when freedom was only a few feet away. In another moment he would cross the line of demarcation and be back in command.

Schultz hurried to catch up.

Wilson, still making his point, threw his final warning at Hogan's back. "I'll be by the hut after roll call in the morning to check on you. And if your dressings show you've been bleeding..."

Hogan, without turning around, acknowledged Wilson's comment with a wave of his good hand. _Don't bother, _ _Wilson__, by tomorrow there will be no more dressings. _

Grasping the door handle with his good right hand, Hogan stepped outside and wiped the tears from his eyes. "The sun's bright today, Schultz."

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**_--Klink's Quarters-- _**

"So you agree, Colonel Hogan?" Klink refilled Hogan's glass.

"Absolutely, Kommandant!" Hogan nodded. "Hochstetter can just go right on thinking I was shot after the first explosion. I mean, what possible difference can it make? I was right here all night anyway.

"Exactly! Why worry General Burkhalter needlessly," Klink agreed.

"Burkhalter?" Hogan pulled the small whiskey-filled glass away from his lips. "We're lying to Burkhalter, too?" Hogan asked, hiding his amusement. _I think I'm rubbing off on you, Klink. I'm going to have to watch you a little more closely. _

"Well, you know how it is." Klink slapped his right hand into the small of his back and paced around his chair. "If Burkhalter and Hochstetter get together and talk… They should have the same story." Klink circled out from behind his chair and again filled Hogan's glass.

Hogan looked at it approvingly. "Yeah, I know how it is. It saves you from a firing squad!" _I think he's trying to get me drunk. Guess he figures I'll be easier to manipulate. _Hogan smiled. _Works for me! _

Klink stiffened. "Your neck is out there too, Colonel Hogan! If I go down, you go with me! How long do you think Hochstetter would go without interrogating you? And you are in no shape for a Gestapo interrogation."

"Now, there's an unpleasant thought…" Hogan answered thoughtfully.

Klink smirked.

"… being cell mates with you!" Hogan shivered and took another sip of schnapps.

Klink frowned. "Being cellmates with me?"

Hogan nodded. "You don't think it would be only me Hochstetter interrogates, do you? After all, you're the one who started this lie." Hogan rubbed his chin. "Hmm, you know, it might almost be worth it to see you getting a chance to feel what its like to be behind bars!"

"_Hogan_!" Klink's exasperation ended with a stomp of his right foot.

"All right, Kommandant. I'll play along." Hogan waved his hand in an encompassing gesture and shrugged. "I wouldn't want to risk losing all this."

As much fun as it had been watching and listening to Klink spin his web of deceit, Hogan had to admit… he was getting tired. "If that's all, Kommandant…" Hogan swigged the last of his drink down. "…I think I'll head over to the barracks. I haven't had a chance to see my men since you sprung me." Hogan stood to leave.

"Sprung you?"

"Had me released," Hogan answered.

"Oh, yes," Klink answered, finally following Hogan's meaning. "No. I'm not quite done with you, Hogan. Sit down. Your medic told me you needed to take it easy for a few more weeks. And… now that we've taken care of _business,_ I have a surprise for you." Klink disappeared behind the sofa and crossed the dining room. "Something I promised I'd do for you, before your… um… unfortunate accident."

"My _accident?_ You mean before your guards got trigger happy and started shooting at shadows."

"Let's not quibble over details." Klink opened the door on the dining room curio. "Don't turn around. I want this to be a surprise."

_Now, what's he doing?_ Hogan sat on the edge of his seat, listening and trying to interpret the sounds going on behind him.

_Ping__…ping…ping…ping. _

A sinking feeling grabbed Hogan in the pit of his stomach, as the strained plinking of the violin sent a chill down his bank.

Klink adjusted the instrument under his chin. "I'll bet you've forgotten, I had promised to play for you. This should work right in with your recovery." The irritating screeching continued as the bow assaulted the tautly stretched violin strings

Standing, Hogan controlled his urge to run and began to inch his way toward the door. "I wouldn't dream of imposing on you, Kommandant. I mean, I'm sure you have a million things to do."

"Nonsense, Hogan. Sit down."

"No really, Kommandant. I…"

"_Sit down_, Colonel Hogan, that's an _order_!"

Hogan sat and braced for the inevitable. _I'm not sure which is worse: _ _Wilson__ not leaving me alone or Klink's… therapy. _

_Squeak, squack, ping, ping. _

Glancing up at the ceiling Hogan reached out for divine help. _Please_. _I said I was sorry! _

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**_--Gestapo Headquarters, Hammelburg— _**

****

Hegel nodded and smiled with satisfaction. He had just heard from Hochstetter that, much to the Major's dissatisfaction, Hogan had recovered enough to resume his place as senior POW at Stalag 13. It was time to make his move.

_We'll make contact the day after tomorrow. From what Hochstetter says about the guards at Stalag 13, _ _Myra__ will have no trouble manipulating her way past them. But will Colonel Hogan take the bait? _

Hegel rubbed the cover of the well read file lying on his desk. He had been studying the American Colonel's interrogation transcripts and records of attack on German installations.

_Yes, he'll come. I'm an excellent judge of human nature. And it's his nature to take risks. He thrives on pulling off the unexpected. Unfortunately, he has also been quite good at it… Until now, that is. _

Hegel, smirking, poured himself a drink.

****

_I can use the basement of Schiller's abandoned bakery to set up a private temporary command post. The alley in back will allow us to get our prisoners in and out without being seen. Three guards should be enough to handle them during transport. We'll put their leader, Papa Bear, face down in the back of the truck with a rifle against his skull. That should keep the others docile. But just to make sure, I'll still have two guards with their guns trained on them. _

Taking a drink, Hegel swirled the remaining cognac around the inside of his glass and smiled. _You will soon be as contained as this liquor Colonel Hogan, or… should I say Papa Bear? _

Hegel greedily wrapped his hand around the glass _prison_ and sent the last of the cognac streaming down his throat.

_And I will consume you just as eagerly! _

_The End. _

_Thanks for reading. _

_For the ending… Watch episode # 35 _

_"Diamonds In The Rough" _

_Second Season _

_Air Date: _ _9-30-66_

I had a lot of fun tying events in the episode to my story. Events like the diamonds, the baseball, Sergeant Williams and why it was LeBeau had to remind Hogan who Williams was. Also, Hogan didn't join his men at the gate when Myra showed up selling her milk – maybe it was because he was still under "Dr.'s Orders to "rest". It also seemed to take a little more effort for Hogan to climb the hill to reach Myra when he went to the rendezvous. In fact he was concentrating so much on the hill, he lowered his guard and she got the drop on him. (At least that's one explanation. ;-))

I hope this story gives you some fun and food for thought the next time you watch, "Diamonds In The Rough"!

I would like to acknowledge and thank L. Groundwater for beta reading my chapters and GSjessica for helping me with character POV. You're both wonderful!


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